California Bound
by ChanelAddict
Summary: One angry washed up actor, one idealistic new director, both former child stars taking on Hollywood, and each other, all over again. Tension, Tantrums, and Tabloids await them both. A/U.
1. Chapter 1

**California Bound.**

"_Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul." ~ Marilyn Monroe._

"I don't want to do this anymore," I said, yanking down the corset of my dress. I was just eleven-years-old and already my growing body was a thing I was trained to hate. I was getting too wide, my breasts were growing too fast. Team all of that with a period drama that required corsets everyday for eleven hours—I was sick of it.

"Sweetheart, you know it's your decision. I never wanted this life for you," my father replied with a soft smile. And he was right. He had never pushed me into acting; it had always been something I'd wanted to do. It was something I had been doing since I was five, and then, here I am not even a teenager and I wanted out. I'd seen him—he and my mother both—acting or reading scripts, having meetings, or holding parties for as long as I could remember. It was just my life. I knew nothing else.

But I wanted to know other things.

"I want to quit. After we're done here, can I just quit?" I asked my dad, the then fountain of knowledge and wisdom to a young girl. He just picked me up high in his arms and assured me that yes, I could do whatever I wanted.

So I did.

They lined us up on our set—it was a ship—an old, dirty ship. Of course, it wasn't _really _a ship. Mostly everything in Hollywood was make believe and this was no different. It was a prop for interior shots, one that we were all thankful for, since the alternative was the location shoot in the North Sea just off the edge of Sweden. Beautiful, but not very comfortable or warm in mid-February, in a corseted dress, and not much else.

"I'm not doing any more movies after this one," I told my co-star and friend of four weeks, Eric Northman. He was dressed in ripped clothes as the little ship hand to the captain who was played by my father, Earl Stackhouse.

"God, why? Isn't this what you wanna do?" he said munching on some candy as we waited for the lighting change.

"I don't know. I thought I did, but I don't know anymore. I wanna go to school—"

He laughed out loud.

"You really are crazy! No one wants to go to school, not when you can get to play dress up and be on a pirate ship all day long."

"But it's just not fun anymore. It should be fun, right?"

He shrugged.

"I have to do six more movies this year; my mom says it's all signed. One of them, the director has already won three Oscars." He shared his candy with me, but I wasn't allowed to eat it. My chaperone Octavia made sure of that. Couldn't have me 'gaining any more weight' as she would put it.

Eric was a nice kid. He was new to acting at almost thirteen, and he was taller than me—though that wasn't very unique. I was a small fry and probably always would be. He on the other hand, I had a feeling would sprout up fairly fast.

"Mom says that I'll get to travel. I don't really care about that, but she does though. She's super excited about shooting in the Caribbean. We've never been…"

"It's nice. The dolphins are fun!" I said with a smile. I'd made a film there when I was eight. "Anything would beat here right?" I said shivering slightly even though we were inside.

"Hey now, you can't diss Sweden."

I should have know he'd give me a hard time for it. He was a Swede born and bred.

"It sucks; it's too cold all the time!" I complained, freezing my little boobs off in that damn lace dress. "I'm glad I'm quitting. I just want to be a normal girl, with normal friends."

"I'm normal," he said.

I looked at him, then looked at myself and somehow we both laughed.

"Okay, so we're not so normal, but Sookie normal is boring. Why would you want to be like everyone else? We get to be actors! So many people would kill for our jobs. I know I'd rather do this than sit in some stupid classroom all day learning stuff we'll never need when we grow up."

I disagreed, and by the end of the shoot I'd grown two inches, my chest had almost fully formed and I was officially sick of acting.

We packed up our things, my dad and I, and we left Sweden. We let go half of our 'team.' I was eleven-years-old and I had a team—that had to tell you how overwhelmed I was. There was a team of people depending on me for their livelihood, and the pressure was getting to be too much. I was getting too old to play the little girl roles, but I was too young to play the teenage roles. I was sick of period dramas, I was sick of corsets and fittings and makeup at five a.m. So I did it, I quit and became a normal girl.

Well, as normal as I was ever going to be. The 'Oscar nominated actress' tag followed me around like a bad smell for most of my life, as did the fame that came with having a famous family in Hollywood. But really, Oscar nominated as a kid? Overwhelming to say the least, and honestly even though most people didn't believe me, I was glad I hadn't won. If you win an Oscar that early, what else is there to aim for as an actress? Turns out for the next thirteen years I wouldn't care, because at least in my own head, I wasn't an actress anymore.

I'd moved from Los Angeles to Paris. I studied there until high school, and from there, when it came time for college, I was looking at film schools. I had taken an interest in photography, and had accidentally taken to directing like a fish to water. My father simply smiled when I would geek out over my cameras or small productions I had underway. Ultimately I chose New York for film school. LA would have been the most obvious choice, but I wasn't so fond of it. I'd been back maybe once in twelve years. It wasn't my kind of town, and since I was just that 'child star' to them, I was better off in a town a little more diverse. Enrolling in and completing the NYU Arts for Film and Direction was one of the best things I'd ever done. I met some of the most amazing friends I'd ever had in my life, real friends. Not just Hollywood friends—the ones who would smile with you in front of the camera, acting like your best friend, only to be the 'source' of your next rumor in the press. No, these people were real and down to earth and so close to my heart that I wondered sometimes what I'd even do without them. It was through my roommate Amelia, her old roommate Tara and her brother Lafayette that I met my fiancé. Alcide Herveaux. Bronx born and raised, a photographer by trade and a damn good one at that. He was offered a job as principle photographer for Vogue Magazine right after graduation. I, on the other hand, was wrapping up two off Broadway productions that I had going. Somehow my name was still a draw. I believed mostly it was because of my father that such attention was paid to me, but the reviews hardly mentioned him—or my past. But they were glowing nonetheless. It was through that work that lead me to keep the creative process going and nurture a script that I had been working on since my sophomore year. I'd written and edited, then re-edited, then scrapped it altogether… but without my knowledge Alcide had found the manuscripts, and sent them out for consideration to various production companies. It wasn't until one Sunday morning when he came bursting back to bed with a smile on his face that I even knew about it.

"I have a surprise for you, and it's a good surprise, so you can't get mad," he said nudging me over so he could get back in beside me.

"Sleep. Sleep is good, surprise later."

"No, surprise now. Look."

He handed me a letter; it was from one of the most prestigious and popular cable networks on the air. With my name and a congratulations underneath it.

"Cide, what is this?"

I looked at his beaming face, and he explained. I was mad at him, for a split second. But then I realized what had happened.

"They've accepted it. They want a meeting, and they want you on board. I guess that whole Oscar nominated thing isn't so bad after all, huh?" He smirked knowing that I hated it.

"Yeah, sure… you know it means nothing, right? I mean, I didn't even win, and I was a kid. It doesn't really count."

"Have you see some of the child actors today? It totally counts. You were awesome."

I rolled my eyes. "Moving on. This says if the meeting goes well, they'll allow me creative freedom? What the hell?" I bounced on the bed slightly.

"I may have erm, _pretended_ to be you when I sent it. And it was one of the stipulations _you _insisted upon. This was like your baby, Sookie. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were running the show, and a lot of places didn't want that. But it looks like these guys do. I'd take the meeting."

That was three years ago. It lead me back to Los Angles and back to a life I had spent so long running away from. But everything was different now. I was a grown up, I knew who I was, I knew what I wanted, and I knew that this production was going to kick everyone's ass. I just needed my lead character to find a voice. It's what had halted production for so long. I got the backing I needed, Tom Hanks was even on board for crying out loud, but I couldn't find an actor to play my leading man that ticked all my very specific boxes. It's what had me on Sunset, in midday traffic, with the top down on my rental car, heading to the Château marmot for this meeting.

Apparently Eric Northman was my leading man.

I checked in and was escorted to a poolside villa. Apparently, Mr. Northman practically lived here now, the bellboy told me in passing. Once we'd reached our destination I tipped him and thanked him and he left smiling. Mr. Northman, as he was now called, was nowhere to be seen. There was however a couple, laying on their sun-loungers, sunglasses in place.

"Eric Northman?" I asked. And he didn't look up, nor did he even really move.

"Not now, Sweetheart. If you could leave the drinks by table, that would be great."

Who the hell was this guy? He was skinny, long, by the looks of his legs hanging over the lounger, pale as hell, and his hair was almost touching his shoulders. His glasses hid his eyes, but the other half of his face was covered in a very scraggly beard and a scowl. I sighed. How the hell was I supposed to sell this guy as a Marine? He looked like a drug addicted mess if I was being honest. I just hoped it was a wrong assumption. His companion was still yapping away on her cell phone. She was obviously ignoring me—and maybe even him—as she talked loudly about how 'awesome' her new movie was going to be and just how much 'interest the media' had in her, so it was obviously going to be a 'hit.'

"Um, no, Eric? It's Sookie Stackhouse? Your manager said—"

"Sookie?" He got up then, and yes he was very, very tall. I had to look up as he stood to see his face, and once he took his glasses off, I'd wished he hadn't. He looked like he was on the bad end of a two-day bender. Turns out I wasn't far off.

"Jesus Christ, Sookie Stackhouse."

I noticed his … girlfriend had stopped talking on her phone to listen in.

"Hi," I said.

"You grew up nice," he said, obviously fixating on my breasts.

Classy.

"Um, thanks? Listen, can we take this meeting?"

"Sure… Sure. Um, come inside. It's too hot out here … unless you want to change into something more … less clothing?" he said, and it was obvious to him that he didn't get how inappropriate it sounded. Especially when the woman in question was offering you a job. One by the looks of him, he needed, big time.

"No."

"Drink?"

"No."

"You in a hurry or something?"

"No, but I had agreed to this meeting at noon. It's now almost twelve thirty, I'd like to get things done if that's okay?"

"Sheesh okay, chill out."

Seems he was chilled enough for both of us.

"I talked to your manager. She said you liked the script?"

"Oh yeah, really it was amazing. The best thing I've read in months, maybe years. I just… have to ask, I mean, I don't get it."

"Well, it's set—"

"No, um, not the story," he said, running his hands through his hair and pushing it off his face. "Why you want me to play Ryan. I just don't get it."

"Well, what's not to get?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Sookie, my career is basically done… I haven't had a decent role in, maybe three years. None of the studios will hire me. I'm done," he said swigging a drink of whatever was in his glass. It wasn't water that's for sure, and probably wasn't the best idea for someone who looked like he was nursing one hell of a hangover.

While it was true, I had kept abreast of Eric's career over the years, not in a hugely invasive way, but It was a little hard to ignore. For a long time he was a child star on the rise, then a teen heartthrob. But it was a mold I saw him struggling to break out of. One that, judging by the choices in his personal life, he was deeply unhappy about too. So the roles dried up, and he got older. There were new child stars to exploit, new teen heartthrobs to market, and here he was not even twenty-seven yet and apparently his career was over.

I went to continue talking but I was distracted by his girlfriend outside.

"Um, Eric, what's she doing?"

We both looked out the patio doors to see her talking on her phone again, hand gestures here there and everywhere, as well as … what looked like poses.

She _was _posing. One arm, then the other, smiling then frowning. It honestly looked like she was maybe having some kind of fit.

"Oh shit, not again," he said rolling his eyes, walking to the doors.

"Sandy? What the hell? We talked about this!"

She came over to him, still smiling as she hung up her phone. Apparently, she wasn't even talking to anyone… Was this girl all there? It certainly didn't look like it. I recognized her, only from getting a better look at her, and her poses. Famous for who she shared her body with rather than her body of work—an LA darling, social scene stealer and all round paparazzi sweetheart, with a not so sweet off camera reputation.

She was taller than me, again, not a shocker since it wasn't hard being just over five foot five. But she sure as hell was thinner than me. Her bikini was barely covering her—and I use the term loosely—breasts, and her legs were just down right terrifyingly tiny. I assumed this girl made most toddlers feel fat.

"Smile. Just come out here and try to look… I don't know, interested in … something."

"We've talked about that, too. I'm not doing that shit anymore. How did they end up here?" he said nodding to the side wall. That's when I noticed two guys with cameras.

Oh.

I let them argue it out as she talked through closed lips, and he looked like someone shanked his grandmother, while I looked over the various scripts sitting on their kitchen table. Most had his name on them, and even by title alone I knew they weren't of the highest quality. It made me a little sad because what I had seen of Eric's work, when he was allowed to go there—to break out of the mold—he did it so well. That's the hope I saw; that's why I wanted him for my Ryan. I needed that shocking intensity to come out, but I also needed the kind of subtle acting that so far I could only see Eric pulling off.

"You say your career is over, that you don't know why I'm doing this, what does it matter why? Do you like the script? Do you get what Ryan is about? That's what I need to know. This thing is my baby, Eric and I won't have some alcoholic on an ego trip screwing it up for me. You have the potential in you still, I see it and with a straight razor and tanning bed, the executives will see it too. The question is, do you see it in _yourself? Can you be my leading man?"_


	2. Chapter 2

**EPOV:**

My head was throbbing, an all too familiar feeling these days. It was just after eleven when I regained consciousness, and as tempting as it was to just kick back and sleep the rest of the day away, I had a script on my table that was calling my name, and a meeting scheduled for noon.

The script had been on my mind for days, weeks even. I was in love with it. The entire concept was just so fresh but so thought out and detailed in character. It was a real actor-friendly script about the main character Ryan and the twisted tale of how he goes from small town boy to hard-hitting marine deployed to Iraq. This story was his upon his return, how he, his friends and his family dealt with how war and being a warrior changed him. Considering how everything I'd been offered in the last three years ended with the phrase 'this years best romantic comedy' and had me wanting to gag at the sheer amount of recycled cheese that I was expected to eat up, this was the golden chalice of scripts—at least those being sent personally to me. Sookie Stackhouse was attached to the project; not as an actor like I thought at first, but as writer. And she was tendered on the page as being the director, too.

That was an interesting revelation.

On meeting her again, she certainly was nothing like the pale tiny eleven-year-old that I remembered, giving it her all on a makeshift pirate ship in the middle of a Swedish film set. She wasn't that much taller, but she was a little taller than I remembered. She had soft looking natural blonde hair, she was tanned and curvy in all the right places. It had been a while since I'd been in the proximity of a woman with her natural breasts and a genuinely friendly smile. She'd tried not to smile but failed. She burst out laughing as I walked back into the office inside the Villa I was renting.

"Does she do that a lot?" she asked, still laughing.

"Eh... Sometimes they just show up without warning, but most of the time I think she knows."

"She has camera radar, huh?"

"Apparently," I sighed taking a seat again, and I noticed Sookie was looking me over.

"See something you like?" I asked, and she just rolled her eyes at me. She was refreshing in so many ways. That wasn't usually how women reacted to me. Failing career or not, failing with women was never something that happened.

"Actually no. Not at all." Her brows scrunched together slightly.

Ouch.

"Thanks."

"No I … I'm sorry I don't mean to be … well, mean. But I'm just thinking how the hell am I going to sell you as a marine?"

"I'm in shape."

She snorted.

"Oh, I'm sorry you're serious… Yeah, _no_ you're not. Not the way I want you."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning, I'm putting my ass on the line by even suggesting you to my backers. You have a week till the audition."

"So wait you come here and pitch to me and I still have to audition?"

"Don't get prissy with me. I want you for this role, based on _Side_… and it's that that I'm pitching to them."

Side was a war thriller I'd done about four years before; it got me a Golden Globe nod as well as a lot of attention. I loved it and had hope for it to kick-start something better. I partied a little too hard, getting a little too ahead of myself, hooked up with the wrong people and generally ended up pissing that opportunity away. But it seemed like Sookie was giving me a second chance, or third or fourth or whatever chance I was on by now.

"What you asked before, I think I can do it. I think I can be your leading man. If they agree, I guess." I shrugged.

"Make them agree; blow them away. I'll be there at the HBO offices next Wednesday from about two. Your audition is at three. Don't be late, or it's over."

"I'm never late."

"Glad to hear it." She put her sunglasses in place again and sighed. "Now, that I have you convinced—and I can't believe I had to fucking _convince_ you by the way—that script rocks."

"Not to toot your own horn or anything there or nothing," I smirked at her and heard her sigh.

"Sure, oh, and just for the record the nineties grunge look wasn't really _that _hot in the nineties. You might want to fix that."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, is this how you see Ryan?" She quirked an eyebrow at me before lifting her bag and gliding ever so gracefully out the patio doors. I saw her waving to Sandy on the way out.

I looked in the mirror, and I mean really looked. I was shocked at what I saw. I'd gotten far too thin for my frame, I was extremely pale and my hair and face were just a mess. She was right. This wasn't the vessel of a marine telling his story, this was the result of self-pitying failure.

That was going to change.

**SPOV:**

I remembered why I hated Los Angeles so much almost instantly—the sheer size of the place and the inability to walk. I hated driving; I sucked at it. Even in an automatic car with no gears to worry about, I still managed to stall. And really what was with all the damn hills? For real, it was just unnecessary.

I chugged my rental car up the hill, the third time around the three blocks that I seemed to be stuck in.

"This place is a millionaires fucking maze!" I said to no one in particular as I tried to reprogram my GPS.

"Annoying computer lady_, you suck_! This is _not _where I'm meant to be! There IS no left, it's a wall! I don't want to die!"

I'd wanted to rent on the beach. I loved the ocean and it was one of the few good things about California, but with the amount of meetings I would be having, sitting in on auditions, and dealing with managers and PR people, it would be a lost less hassle to be closer to the action. As much as I wanted to embrace my inner water baby, I had to suck it up and find a suitable rental in the Hollywood Hills. Find being the keyword, since I didn't think I'd ever actually find the damn place. I pulled out my phone and did my best to scroll to my manager Pamela.

"Again? Sookie, there is a GPS in your car for a reason, you know. Fucking use it."

"I fucking _did! _The little bitch is trying to kill me!"

"Where are you?" I looked backwards and forwards for a street sign of some sort. "Um… Montcalm Avenue." Which I thought was ironic since I was anything but calm.

"You're close. Down past the next corner and second left, then left again. Off Woodrow Wilson, big brown gate, pink toned house. Hurry the fuck up."

"I'm trying." I hung up and attempted to follow her directions.

Finally, I got there to find Pam making herself at home sprawled out on the chair in the living room, martini in hand.

"The house came with alcohol?"

"No, the _manager _came with alcohol. How'd the meeting go?"

"Can I see my new house, first?"

"What's to see? It has everything you asked for, trust me. By the way, this is what assistants are for. Hire one, you tight bitch."

"I will. I will. I didn't expect to be this busy." I looked around, fell in love with the kitchen, and my new bedroom, all amazingly spacious. Those acting paychecks were coming in handy now that I decided to dip into what had been deposited into a trust fund for me over the years.

"I hate wicker furniture," I commented looking over the various pieces scattered throughout the house. "I'll have to replace those, and I need a desk for the reading room—a proper one. I think I'll use that as my office."

"I thought you hated LA. Aren't you always on a plane to New York whenever you can? Now you're decorating?"

"Pam, I've lived out of my suitcase for three years, this project is finally happening, and I've accepted that I need to have some kind of solid base here. Might as well make it homey."

"Homey? How were you educated in Paris?"

I laughed. Pam was obsessed with Parisian fashion and interior decorating. She didn't understand my sense of 'style.' I was a no nonsense comfort, clean lines kind of girl but with a little dash of my own thing. You'd find me daily, in either shorts and a nice fitted tee or a dress and flats. I didn't live for designers, though growing up in Europe I could do nothing else but love their work. I admired their art but I didn't need to wear and show off that I owned a piece of it for other people to comment on for it to please me. I had a weakness for technology. I was a geek in that sense. I embraced the technological advances like my babies. I couldn't live without my Twitter or my Facebook and I'll fully admit that I was addicted to my little virtual farm for awhile before I got worried about myself and deleted it. It just wasn't healthy getting up at three a.m. to harvest make believe crops!

"So, how was the 'meeting' with Mr. Meth?"

"He's on meth?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, not that I know of. But he sure fucking looks like he is."

"I think he just likes to party, which, isn't a bad thing… but he needs to work hard to earn his harder parties."

"That's the problem sweetie, no one wants a washed up former child star."

"Only you could make the words child and star sound like something you scrapped off your shoe," I noted opening my laptop. "It went fine; he's going to show at the audition."

"And if he fucks it up?"

"He won't."

"I have to ask, did you fuck him or something? Fling? Affair? I mean, where is this faith coming from? I just don't get it."

"He'll pull through, and when he does, you'll see Ryan in him like I do."

She just shrugged. "What are you doing now?"

"Emailing Alcide."

"Where is he this week?"

"Milan-no," I pronounced in an accent. "He's shooting for the next issue."

"When did you two last see each other?"

"I don't know, a few months ago… why?"

Her eyes bulged. "Months?"

"So?"

"So? Have you seen him? You're letting that man waltz around the world with supermodels and you're just all chilled about the fact that you haven't seen him in … months?"

"Pam, I trust him. Completely. We've been together a long time."

"And I'm just saying being together that long … might get boring to some guys. Some guys with access to lush supermodels and post-shoot parties."

"Cide wouldn't cheat on me."

"What about you?"

"Well, I wouldn't cheat on me either. I _like_ me." I smiled, sarcastically.

"You know what I mean, bitch."

"No. I love Alcide. No one else even measures up to him. What we have is good; it's easy and simple and no fuss. I like that."

"Sounds like my idea of hell."

"You've been in LA too long, _sweetie_," I mocked. I hated the way people used that word in this town. It's like 'Bitch, I just met you. I am NOT your sweetie.'

"It works for us."

"And you aren't lonely?"

"A little…" I looked up at her. "Okay, so maybe _a lot. _Mostly here. LA is a really lonely town sometimes."

"Well, that's why I'm saying you need to get out more, go to some parties, meet some new people!"

"I have my people. I like my people."

"Who are in New York."

"Not all. Lafayette moved out here for that sitcom last year and we see each other all the time. Tara is working on some screenplays so she's back and forth and she can come stay here now instead of a hotel."

"How nice... you're a bed and breakfast."

"You've never had my breakfasts. They're epic."

"And carb filled, I'm sure."

I gasped jokingly.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"For Europe? No. For New York? No. For LA?"

We both answered at the same time, for we both knew the answer_. "Yes."_

"Bitch," I said finally hitting send on my email to Alcide.

"Let's go to dinner. I'll even let you pick somewhere pap filled so we can watch all the car wrecks pretending they don't want the attention." I smiled.

**EPOV:**

Walking into the production offices was an unusual occurrence these days. I'd been trailed by the paps coming out of the hotel; not all that shocking since they practically camped outside in the hopes of getting various shots at their various targets. I wasn't all that surprised honestly, but I was amused that they had to do a double take when they saw me drive out. I'd taken Sookie's advice, or … orders, whichever way you look at it. And I re-read the script for maybe the millionth time. She was right. Physically, I wasn't what the script called for, not even close. I'd lost a lot of weight and muscle with drowning myself in self-pity and beer, and shots, and vodka and whatever else I could get my hands on to numb the pain. But I could change it. Not only my body but hopefully my outlook as well. I'd found out where the auditions were being held, and I arrived with plenty of time to kill. I also found out that Sookie had a temporary office on the third floor. I walked right into her almost—accidentally. Her reaction when she saw me was priceless.

"Oh. I'm sor—" she looked up, and up. "Jesus Christ," she said, then a smile crept onto her face.

She was in a white button up shirt, open just enough so the world got to appreciate her breasts I imagined—and I did, imagine and appreciate.

"You look… how did…"

"I took your advice, and I think Ryan would like this." I had short hair, shorter than I'd ever had it in my life. Marine issue buzz cut. My long messy hair gone. I'd also taken a tanning session everyday for a week. It gave me 'healthy glow' as Sandy put it. I'd also de-toxed for a whole week with no alcohol. It damn near killed me, but I did it. I'd gotten a professional shave, too. I felt better than I had in years. Even if I didn't get the part, I hoped I'd still feel as good.

"You really did. Wow. Jesus this is… you look like a different person! And, you know, _alive_. Which is helpful," she said grabbing my chin and turning my head to the left. Had anyone else done it, I'd have lashed out. But I was okay with her touching me.

"Thanks babe."

"Oh no, _no."_

"What?"

"I'm not your babe, or your sweetie or your honey. Okay? You are not my boyfriend and you are not my mother," she pointed out.

"Sure thing, sweetie," I said smiling as I left her glaring in her office.

I walked into the audition room and the panel of people before me consisted of Sookie in her tight ass shirt and sexually suggestive black rimmed glasses, that soft hair of hers in a ponytail to the side of her neck, smiling encouragingly. The others were the head of the network and one of the producers and backers of the project.

I gave it my best shot and Sookie's reaction was the only one I cared about. She was smiling and whispering with the other people on the panel before she spoke up.

"Thank you, Eric that was great!" The others at the table reiterated her sentiments before I was told they'd let me know within the next twenty minutes. Apparently it was between me and some British guy. I was shitting myself, to be quite honest.

My phone rang while I was outside the offices. It was my PR guy, Bill. I hated him, but my manager had insisted that I needed him a few years back. Personally, he made my life hell, all in the name of improving my rather tarnished image. So, I liked to drink and socialize with my friends, there was nothing wrong with that. But somehow the tabloids turned a few beers in a bar into a night with hookers and strippers and drugs. I'd never done a hooker and I wasn't all that impressed by strippers. I liked to touch; where was the fun in the no touching? And as for drugs… I may have experimented growing up but in truth, I liked control over my life and drugs took that away. I may have socialized with people who thought differently but who was I to judge what made a person happy?

"What?" I said not beating about the bush.

"Calvin told me you had a meeting with Sookie Stackhouse. What about?"

"A project she's working on."

"She's getting back into acting?"

"No, not that I know of. She's directing."

"Directing? She's a kid."

"She's almost twenty-four."

"So, elderly for this town, then." He smirked. He was a creepy little bastard but I was told he was one of the best creepy little bastards in the business.

"You called why?"

"Well, I was surprised you, or Sandy didn't fill me in. Want me to leak this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not in the bag yet and I'm sick of them knowing my every move. Let's surprise them for once."

"So you think it's in the bag then?"

"I fuckin' hope so. I need this."

"Yeah, you really do."

"Thanks," I said, clipped.

"You know what I mean. I can only leak your location to the paparazzi so many times in a week before it starts looking shady."

"It already is shady, and I told you man, I don't want them everywhere I go. It's stupid and unnecessary."

"Necessary for you to stay fresh in the medias mind though, since you haven't been doing a whole lot lately…"

"Yeah well, things are gonna change." I hoped. Jesus Christ, did I hope things would change. Just at that Sookie came out of the large room looking around for me.

"Gotta go, Bill. No leaks, you hear me?"

"So what's the word?" I asked as she approached me.

"I fought for you in there, just letting you know that now."

"Shit…"

She smiled. "They agreed, and since this was my project from the start, they trust that I know my characters and their needs better than they do. So, you're in. You're Ryan."

There was that feeling again, the one of being worth something. It shot from my toes all the way into my brain. I could stop smiling.

"No shit! Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. They were heavily looking at the other guy, but … his voice annoys me…"

"And mine doesn't."

"When you're not whining about what a terrible hard life you have, no it doesn't. But you have to work at this, you hear me? We're talking boot camp, dialect coaching, the whole nine."

I nodded. "You got it, boss."

She just rolled her eyes. "If you say so, but I swear to God, Northman, if you fuck this up in any way, just once, you're done. You're out and annoying voice guy will replace you. Understood?"

I knew what was on the line here. I understood her fear.

"Yes. Completely."

"Great. I'll be in touch with the details but know that the actors boot camp is starting at the beginning of next month. I expect you all to be there, all sober and on time."

I nodded again.

She went to shake my hand but I was just too damn happy to care about professional courtesy. I yanked her hand into a hug, and considering our size difference it was one hell of a big bear hug. She was soft, so soft and warm and just womanly—a lot different from what I'd been used to lately. She laughed as we both let go.

"You're a goof, still. It's nice to know some things never change."

"Every guy is still just a thirteen-year-old kid inside."

"Apparently so! Congratulations, again." She smiled, genuinely, warmly, sweetly.

"You too, this is going to be one hell of a production, now." I smirked.

"Not to toot your own horn or anything," she echoed my words to her before.

"Not to do that. Of course not. But I am, Sookie. I am your leading man."

It wouldn't be for a few weeks, but the realization that I wanted to be her leading man would hit me—and I'm not just talking about on the on screen kind—and it would hit me hard.

We were so screwed.

**A/N: Hi guys! So are you with me for Cali Bound? I'm really looking forward to taking these two on a nice little bump filled journey! Let me know what you're thinking so far, reviews are love! Xox **


	3. Chapter 3

**SPOV:**

"Stackhouse, you're drunk!"

"I am not, thank you very much!" It might have helped my case had I not hiccupped mid- sentence.

"Yeah, okay, but it's okay to be drunk. You're among friends!" Tara said with a smile and I hopped up off my couch.

"That's true I am, and I love you all!" Alcide pulled me back down again, going in for a cuddle.

"You love everyone when you're drunk, you lush," Alcide said, pulling me close to him.

"But you guys, it's happening! It's actually happening! After all this time and all this work, I get to do it! I get to direct."

"Yeah, we know. We've heard it nine thousand times and that's just tonight," Pam chided.

"Shush you. I can't believe it though."

We were heading to Namibia in two days time. I was so excited and scared it had led to much debate and even more alcohol.

"I have my actors, I have my crew, I have my producers. My baby is going to be born in Namibia! I feel like Angelina Jolie!"

Everyone laughed at me, but it was true. This story meant a lot to me but I could never figure out why. I related to Ryan—doing what he thought he wanted to do, only to realize he hated it, then finding a love for it further down the road. I had hoped I'd find a love for acting again, but the fear of failing kept me from trying. I missed it from time to time and that release that it used to give me, that excited feeling that nothing since has matched, that's what I missed most.

"You'll come out to visit, right?" I asked Alcide, not caring that Lafayette was whistling in the background.

"You know I will. These last two months have been too long without you, Sooks. We just have to try a little harder."

"Told you," Pam said refilling her glass.

"Shush," I simply said to her.

"I know, Cide, I just…"

"I know you're scared, but I have faith in you."

I kissed him, chaste as it was, on the lips.

"Thank you, sweetie."

"Thought you hated the use of the word Sweetie?" Pam inquired.

"From and to someone I just met while air kissing their cheeks, I hate it. Not when he is my sweetie," I laughed. "I need to sleep. I can sleep now, right?"

The previous two days had been hectic, to say the least. All my actors were cast, four main marines—one of which I cast Lafayette for. I just had to; he was a perfect Ronny. Since Eric would be playing an English marine working with American forces, he'd have a dialect coach on set with him as well as having to go to boot camp. For the previous month the studio put all the 'marine' actors to work, training to look, act and sound like the real thing. They wanted, and I wanted, everything to look as authentic as possible. We'd spend four weeks on location, then head back to LA for another three weeks. The plot follows Ryan's life through his service—where we'll be using the location shots in lieu of shooting in Iraq—then his time after his service ends. The plot focuses more on his time afterward dealing with his old friends, as well as his marine buddies, and how his time in the war changed him. Not to sound too cliché about it or anything, but he goes to war a cocky boy, and comes back a man. I hoped that Eric would do him justice, and judging by how hard he'd been training with the other actors, I had a good feeling.

"He's fine, Sooks. Fine..." Lafayette said with a swirl of his wine. Laf was as straight as a circle and all of his friends knew. However, this was Hollywood, and while they preached about how open they were and love was love, there was still very much a need to stay in the closet if you wanted to get straight roles. Since Lafayette was still just starting out n this side of the coast and was making the transition from theatre to movies and TV, his well decorated closet was used well. He hated it. We hated it, but he understood the choices he made regarding his career. He wanted a career so he accepted his personal life and it's limitations.

"Who?" I asked finishing off my wine.

"Northman."

"Oh."

"Mmmmmm..." he said as if he'd tasted something amazing. "Stunning. Really, tall, lean, built like a brick shit house… The transformation is happening and it's happening because of you baby girl."

I just rolled my eyes. "Hardly."

"He's been singing your praises at camp. Well, once. But still."

"What'd he say?" Alcide asked.

"Just that she was a great kid, great actress and that we should all have a little faith that she'll be a great director, too."

"Which one of those assholes is doubting me?" I sat up.

"No one! Chill yo' tits."

"What were they saying, Lafayette?" My tone told him I meant business.

He looked at the floor. "I don't know, some of the guys were saying that maybe you were there just because you fucked the president of the production company, and you were some stupid little girl who knew nothing about war, or business."

"I want names."

"I can't do that, Sook. We've got like a whole band of brothers thing going on—"

"Tell me, or I will shank you." I glared, not totally serious.

He gave me the names, and I decided I'd get them back in good time. Assholes. I'd show them I could play with the big boys, and I could play better.

"So, who's the new assistant?" Pam asked, since I'd spent the better part of two weeks interviewing for the position to be filled. I never had an assistant, and other than Octavia when I was a kid, the 'people' under me were few and far between. I was bossy but in some ways, I hated being 'the boss.' I'd given in and realized I needed an assistant. There were just so many things that needed to be done and I was just one person.

"Jessica Hamby. She's from Louisiana."

"Aww... a lil country girl," Pam mocked. "And why oh why didn't you hire the hot guy with the six-pack like I asked?"

Alcide just stood up and Pam's eyes followed him.

"Oh, right, that's why."

"So what's the country bumpkin like?" Lafayette asked, taking the last of the wine off Tara for himself.

"She's not a bumpkin, she's very sweet. She's just turned twenty-one; she's a sociology major from CSU and uh, she's allergic to seafood."

"Are you hiring this girl, or _dating _her?" Tara asked.

"What do you want? I've never hired someone to … do my personal life things before. I wasn't sure what to ask. All I know is that she's nice and kind and we could talk—she can handle multitasking and she knows LA better than I do because she's lived here for four years. She'll fit right in with us misfits," I assured them, because she really was a sweet girl. They might deny it outright but they'd grow to like her, too.

As everyone said their goodbyes and Tara made her way to the guest room, it left Alcide and I alone.

We just laid on the couch—some call it snuggling, I called it quiet time. Listening to his breathing helped to calm me down. It was comforting.

"You know we've been together six years in three weeks," he commented.

I smiled, "I guess we have. It doesn't seem like that long."

"It doesn't, and in some ways, it does. So much has happened to us since we met, you know?"

"Don't you mean when you knocked me down?"

"It was an accident!"

"Hey, you can't help your gigantism. It's okay. I understand." I petted him and he just chuckled.

"It's just…" he sighed.

"It's just what?" I asked, not looking up at him, instead focusing on our beautiful crackling fire.

"Do you think maybe we should be more… I don't know, couple-y?"

"Is that even a word?"

"You know what I mean."

"Your mom been asking about babies again?"

He smirked. "She's always asking about babies."

"She has to understand we're not like your brother and his wife. Our jobs are a lot more demanding and we're traveling and that's just how it is. Bringing a kid into this life, right now? It would be so unfair. And besides, I don't think I want kids—not yet—and I know you don't either."

"What if I did?"

Then I looked at him.

"Is this a talk? Are we having a talk?"

"No, Sookie, I'm not saying I want them right now, but … I _do _want them. I never really get a straight answer from you."

That was true. I'd become the master at avoiding the question.

"Cide, you're doing this now? Two days before I leave, after everything? Really?"

"It's just a question, it's not like I'm looking for you to get pregnant right now…"

"Then… honestly, I don't know. I _don't know _if having kids is something I want. I don't know if our lives are suitable for kids, right now or ten years from now. I want to be in the business again, I want this directing gig to go well, I want to start up the production company like we talked about… and I don't know, I've been thinking about acting again. I can't see myself doing all those things and having kids. I can multitask till the cows come home but that doesn't mean I should, nor does it mean that our kids should be viewed as a 'task' I have to manage. And I would be the one managing it, because I know you love your job too much to quit."

He went quiet. It was never good when Alcide stopped talking, mainly because he wasn't the strong silent type. He always, and I mean always, said what was on his mind. We had that in common. It led to more arguments than anything else with us.

"What? Say something," I said, getting up from the couch finally.

"What is there to say? You made it clear you don't want kids with me."

"Not 'with you,' I'm just not sure if I want kids at all, that's all."

"And you've known this, all this time?"

"Alcide, come on, you know me. I'm not that girl. I'm not the girl that needs her guy there twenty-four seven to feel secure in a relationship. I'm not the girl that needs constant reassurance my boyfriend still loves me, and I'm not the girl who's been planning her wedding and picking baby names since she was twelve, okay? You know this about me; you always have. Why now? Why when I'm about to pack to leave for weeks on end do you bring it up?" My stress level had gone from zero to sixty in as many seconds.

"I don't know, okay? I missed you. I haven't seen you in months, Sook."

"You knew I was stuck here. You were the one in New York for two weeks and didn't bother coming out here, so don't lay this on me, Mister. You know just as well as I do that your job takes you away, too."

"I know. I'm just saying, all this shit from my mother and then not seeing you for so long and when I do finally get a week off to come here, you're working, or Pam is here, or your friends are here..."

"Our friends."

"Really?"

"Holy shit! Where has all this passive-aggressiveness come from?" I said, lifting our glasses and stomping into the kitchen.

"It's not pass— You know what, fine. Maybe it is, I don't know. I just have questions, Sookie. Valid questions about the state of our relationship and I want answers while I get to see you alone for the first time in a long time. I'm sorry if it's freaking you out, but there it is."

Every time he went back to his family he came back wanting us to 'commit.' I swear they brainwashed him each damn time.

"You say you want us to be more committed or whatever to our relationship. That means you moving here, that means you finding a job here, or a transfer, because with 'Rationale' finally getting off the ground, I'm stuck here."

"You know I can't do that. I've worked just as hard as you to get where I am in my career."

"And I'm not stopping you! Just like I thought you weren't stopping me, but here I find that my post-feminist boyfriend is actually hiding the values of a 1950's husband underneath his chilled Abercrombie wardrobe."

"I'm not."

"Then what? What exactly do you want from me?"

"I'm sorry I brought it up," he said, clearly exasperated, running his hand through his shaggy dark hair.

"I'm not. Clearly we have a whole lot more fucking issues than I was aware of. So tell me, Alcide, what do you want here? Tell me. If I can, I'll give it to you."

**EPOV:**

Jesus Christ, I hated this job already. Well, that was a lie, but the boot camp kicked my ass six ways from Sunday. Every week, three times a fucking week, for a month. I was dying and we hadn't shot an inch of film. If I wasn't in boot camp hell, I was recuperating with Sandy.

Sandy Brown, my girlfriend of eight months. She and I met on the set of one of the disastrous low budget pseudo-intellectual-indie films that my manager and my PR had insisted was the right move for me. It wasn't. It was a remake of a classic that shouldn't have been touched, and while I understood and liked my character, some of his choices when it came to Sandy's character left me scratching my head. She and I hit it off instantly. On the surface we seemed perfect for each other. Same taste in music, same—according to my assistant—horrible taste in fashion trends, same background, similar upbringing…

I had a pushy mother who enjoyed the benefits of my fame—she had a pushy mother who liked being rich and noticed, who shoved her only daughter into every beauty pageant along the East coast before she got noticed by a casting scout. She's been addicted to the attention ever since. And when I say addicted, I mean addicted. She was like Tinkerbell, only instead of applause, it was camera flashes that seemed to keep her perky. We'd go days, weeks, without it and honestly, she was like a different person. Almost like a drug addict waiting on a fix.

Why put up with it, right? That was the question I didn't seem to have an answer to. She wasn't a bad person. In fact, there were moments when she was a great person. She and I did have a lot in common, so there was that, but there were just so many other outside influences on us that made the relationship—if you could even call it that—extremely rocky, at best. I think, ultimately, we were both convenient for each other, and Hollywood was a lonely town. I'd spent enough time alone to know that. She was a handful, but it beat being lonely.

"You all packed?"

"Yeah, mostly, I think. Just can't find my iPod charger…" I said, looking around the room as she decided to sprawl herself on the bed. "Any plans for when I'm gone?" I finally found the white charger underneath a lot of crap in a drawer.

"Not really. I have a few meetings, then I have to go shopping with my stylist for this charity thing, then I have that English Film Festival red carpet, then the dinner for Elton John red carpet, then I have to meet this, like, majorly popular blogger guy I think I can strike a deal with for … you know, my fashion_, obviously_. And um, I think I have a few more events before you get back. Maybe we could go to something when you get back or something."

"What's the charity?"

She fidgeted with the zipper of my bag. "Um, I don't know? I want to say kids? Or sick whales? I don't know. All I know is I was told to turn up looking hot, which is why we can't go out to dinner tonight."

"Why not?"

"Uh, hello? You know that I limit my portions before an event. I can't look podgy in the photos, silly."

"I'm starving and we've been cooped up here all day. And for the nine hundredth time, you are not podgy!"

"Well, I offered to go to the Ivy for lunch. You declined."

"The Ivy is pap central and you know that shit annoys me when I'm trying to eat. No one looks good while they're eating."

"That's my motto. Seriously eating, it's just disgusting. Power shakes are so the way to go."

"But… I _like_ food, and those shakes are for building my muscle tone back up and they suck. That shit you drink is just vile."

"It's healthy! My stylist totally swears by it. Detoxing the whole body helps you drop that pesky ten pounds like that!" She snapped her fingers. "So really, just order something in if you're still hungry or whatever."

I decided to get a dinner delivered to the Villa from the hotel. I was starving, and leaving for weeks for Africa the next day didn't do much to help my nerves. This felt like the last shot. Like the really last shot. If I fucked this up, I may as well give up hope of becoming the actor I wanted to become all my life. It's a terrifying prospect—holding onto something so tightly for so long, only to watch it wither away before your eyes due to bad decisions again and again. I was so angry with myself, with my 'people,' with the misconceptions in the press. Apparently, because I don't smile when going to the store, or I like to have a beer with my friends, I was a 'moody' asshole.

Which, okay, I was some of the time. But honestly, you try having three or four guys appear out of nowhere with cameras and questions when you're just trying to buy bread, for fucks sake.

Getting to the airport was dramatic. Sandy had insisted on coming with me, which lead to a string of photographers following us from the hotel to the check in desk. I was so embarrassed since I'd spotted a few of my cast mates already checked in and watching the commotion.

"Okay, sweetie..." Sandy said, rubbing my back excessively as we stood in line. "I'll speak to you soon, okay? Kiss me." she said standing on her tiptoes, almost speaking into my neck.

"Here?" I looked around. There were kids in the line and an elderly looking woman who was most bemused at the two two-hundred pound guys with cameras asking us questions that we were ignoring.

"_Are you guys jetting off to get married?"_

"_Are you leaving her, Eric?"_

"_What's going on guys?"_

Seriously, what told them this was an interview?

I kissed her quickly on the lips before she hugged me just as quickly. Flashes, everywhere. I may be blind now.

Jesus.

Before we broke apart, I heard wheels of a suitcase wheel up in the line next to me. It was Sookie.

"If you two are done making yourself look like something out of Jackass, we do have a plane to catch, Eric." She addressed me icily before turning her attentions to Sandy. "Oh, hi again, Sandy."

"Hi, Sookie. I meant to tell you the other day when you at our Villa at the Château Marmot."

What was she doing? "I just loved your movies when I was a kid. You made me want to be an actress."

The camera guys were still standing there and it was obvious their intrusion embarrassed Sookie. I saw her cheeks flush under her over-sized glasses.

"Oh, well, that's sweet. Thank you, I guess." Her neck started to go red, don't ask me why, but it was kind of sexy.

"No, really and honestly, you were robbed of that Oscar! It must feel so horrible to fail so hard at life like that, and so young, too..." Sandy said, with no malice evident in her voice. Which meant she actually thought this was an okay topic to talk about like this; here of all fucking places.

I closed my eyes, hoping she'd stop. I opened them to see Sookie's eyebrow quirk before she laughed.

"Well, better to have failed and realized I was better than a failure at age eleven, Sandy, than being a washed up, desperate, fame-whore clinging to just any ounce of so-called 'fame' and celebrity, right? If you'll excuse me." She handed in her ticket and went through the necessary procedures, as did the tall redhead next to her who looked shocked by the whole thing.

The photographers seemed extremely happy with their find, leaving eventually with a curt thank you. Like we could do shit to stop them in a public place.

"What the fuck, Sand?"

"What?"

"That's my boss!"

"Oh please. She'll be fine."

"Jesus. Look, I have to board. I'll see you in three weeks."

"Sure, baby."

I cringed. I hated that pet name, or pet names in general. She kissed me on the cheek and made her way outside while I checked into the flight. I was exhausted already and we hadn't even taken off.

**SPOV:**

I'd managed not to pack the entire contents of my wardrobe, which in itself was shocking. Jessica had been an amazing help in that department. She'd been so Zen and chilled out, I wanted whatever she was having. She had finished university and really unsure of what to do, and with no money for Grad school, and not wanting to leave California, she'd applied for a bunch of jobs. She'd ended up at Pam's management agency as a temp. Pam had seen her and apparently thought she and I would mesh. Of course, Pam sent me three models and an ex-Playboy bunny as well, so perhaps her judgment was a little off on what one needed in an assistant. I'd told Jessica she wasn't my slave, that I wasn't any better than her and I'd like us to be friends. If she and I got along, it was important to me to establish trust first, then friendship. I was loyal, and fiercely protective of my friends. If she proved herself in the trust department, then I'd think of asking her if she wanted the pool house since I knew she was trying to save on rent. But I'd have to see how it went first.

Alcide had left the previous morning, not that I blame him. Things were just too… awkward. I'd asked him what he wanted, and he didn't know what he wanted and he thought I didn't know what I wanted either. So we both agreed we'd take a break from whatever it was we were at that point. Break, break-up, breaking down, I didn't know what the hell was happening. All I knew was that I felt so lost and so alone, and to make things ten times worse, it should have been the happiest time of my life. All my hard work was coming to fruition. I should have been elated. Instead I was bitchy, sad and angry, and all I wanted was to curl into my duvet and cry for a few days and eat my body weight in ice cream. Instead, what I walked into was Barbie and Ken having a goodbye fest in front of the fucking paparazzi. It made my blood boil, and in equal parts made me want to cry, since I was now single, or not single, or soon to be single—I had no fucking idea what 'on a break' meant.

Barbie bitched me out in front of the paps, and in such a underhanded manner it made me question if I was actually hearing her. Sure, an eleven-year-old can fail at life.

_Stupid bitch._

She'd managed to sour my already fucked over mood. As Jessica and I got settled into first class, I noticed the network didn't spring for everyone to travel that way. It sucked, but that's just how it went. I did, however, see my tall, blond lead actor make his way into our section, iPod in place, script in hand. I had nothing to say to him, or anyone really, until we landed and until then. I was going to take one of my last opportunities to fully relax. I reclined my chair, replaced my sunglasses with my eye mask, unpacked my fleece blanket and laid back. I would sleep until it was time to eat, or until we landed, whichever came first.

Yeah, like I'd actually get peace long enough to sleep. Of course not. I'd get a few hours before I'd wake up to find Eric where Jessica had been, and a smirk in place of his former scowl.

Not good, not good at all.

**A/N: Hii! What do you think? Good, bad, ugly? Lol. I know these chapters have had very little actual Eric/Sookie interaction, but I like to set things up properly with a good foundation, and this is our foundation that I'll hopefully build up! They're on location, free of their other halves, and both terrified beyond belief. Dun dun, dunnnn. :D Thank you all so much for the review love, it's so amazing you have no idea! So encouraging and sweet, and I'mma shut up now before I start rambling even more! Hope you enjoyed it! Xoxo.**


	4. Chapter 4

**SPOV:**

I woke up feeling disorientated and thirsty, the lovely dulcet tones of Florence and the Machine playing in my ears. I yanked my sleep mask off and pulled the headphones from my ears only to find Jessica gone and Eric in her place. He smiled when I looked at him.

"Sleeping beauty, awakes," he said softly before he closed his well worn script and turned to me.

"What time is it?"

"Just after four a.m." We'd been flying a long time, and we had even longer to go. Oh, joy.

"Where's Jessica?" I whispered, noting most of first class was asleep.

"Oh, well, I convinced Jessica to switch seats with me for awhile. I wanted to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Well, first, I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"For what, exactly?"

"The way Sandy behaved. It was uncalled for and rude and well, just wrong."

"So you're apologizing for your girlfriend being an asshole? Interesting. What else?" I wasn't in the mood, in all honesty, for his heart-to-heart if that's what this was.

"Thank you. For this. For this shot, and for wanting me to be the guy that played Ryan. I don't know if I've told you or not but I really love this script. Like, really love it. I just needed you to know I've worked hard, trying to be what the script needs me to be and I want this shoot to go well."

Oh, that I wasn't expecting.

"I see. Well, great. I'm glad that when you cut your hair you lost some of your attitude along with it. Neither the hair nor the 'tude was very attractive."

"Am I attractive now?" he asked with a cocky smile. I just ignored him and took a long sip of my bottled water. "Oh, you're engaged? I hadn't noticed before," he said, nodding to my ring.

Right, the ring. I didn't know if I was meant to take the ring off or not.

"Uh, yeah. I am."

He smiled sadly.

"Missed my shot, huh? He should know I did see you first." He laughed and I did too.

"That is true, robbing the cradle when I was eleven. I'll be sure to let him know."

He sighed, sitting back slightly.

"So much has changed since then."

"We let it change, we grow up, we be who we're meant to be. It's how life goes I guess."

"How the hell are you so Zen?"

"Want to know my secret? I take half a Xanax before I fly. Knocks me right out. I don't think it's worn off fully yet."

He just laughed.

"Just don't let me down, Eric. That's all I ask."

He simply nodded. I hoped he meant all his sweet talk. I prayed he did. I didn't need him bullshitting me like he bullshitted the rest of the world. I had too much at stake here.

Far too much.

**EPOV:**

"No. No, this is just not right! How many times, Eric? Really you need to listen to me. That's not what this scene is about—"

"He's feeling lost, he doesn't know which way is up! That's what I'm doing!"

"No, it's not. You're half-assing it! You look like you got lost on the way to set. This isn't the look we're going for."

Sookie was really in a mood today—the mood to rip just about everyone a new asshole.

We'd been on location for five days, and already so many things had managed to go wrong.

The hotel was overbooked so half of the crew and the actors were shuttled to another hotel ten miles away from where we'd managed to get rooms. My assistant-who had been on leave because his mother died—he still hadn't arrived. He'd been fucked over with his flights and ended up on the other side of the country, meaning he was still a day away. The trailers hadn't been set up on location, so you had a crew of forty people and twelve actors and a very pissed off director baking in the sun, with nothing but tents for coverage. When they'd finally managed to arrive—two days late—Sookie looked like she was going to explode.

"Fine, let's go again and I'll try and fix it."

"Don't _try _and fix it, fucking _fix it_."

First day on set was a nerve-wrecking one; everyone was nervous. It was a new gig for some, it was the first time on location for others, and for Sookie, it was her shot at her directorial debut.

"Okay everyone, let's try and get this next take, okay? I know we're all tired and hungry and in need of a few shots, right?" she asked with a smile, and everyone agreed. "Switching locations tomorrow, so feel free to get as drunk as you like tonight but I want everyone on set by six a.m. on Thursday, you hear me?"

Again everyone cheered.

"Good, now let's hope Northman can get his head out of his ass long enough to let us cut out early, huh?"

And then there was that. _Northman. _That's who I was on set when she addressed me. Everyone went by their last names. Even her.

She raised her brow at me. "You about ready to un-fuck yourself?"

I nodded and we began rolling.

I nailed it, the two pages of dialogue that was tripping me up, I finally managed to nail it.

Fucking English accent was kicking my ass.

Jessica was a sweet girl. She was naive but down to earth in the way that you couldn't help but like her. She was kind and pleasant to everyone, and if I was honest, I thought she had a tiny crush on me. Not that I encouraged it or anything, but I was a natural born flirt. Flirting was fun. It was easy and it was nice to feel wanted. Who doesn't want to feel wanted? Especially by attractive women trying their best not to blush or swoon around you.

"Hi, Jessica," I said, unzipping the top of my mop suit finally. She looked from my face to my bare chest. Her eyes widened before she focused on my face again, the blush settling in nicely on her cheeks.

"H-Hi, hi... Eric. Um Sookie… she s-she um, she wants to talk to you in her trailer."

I figured as much.

"Sure thing." I may have winked at her. Like I said, flirting was fun and in this case, totally innocent. She wasn't my type I'm sorry to say—she was beautiful but a little too innocent for my tastes. Speaking of tastes, I managed to walk into Sookie's trailer just in time to see her in her underwear.

She just stood there, unfazed while I tried my best not to gawk at her body like a twelve-year-old, because honestly? Sookie was hot, and Stackhouse really was an apt name because that girl was in fact, _stacked_.

"You know there's this amazing new thing called knocking. You might want to try it."

"Uh, sorry, Jessica said you wanted to see me."

"Yeah, like ten minutes ago. Did she get distracted again?"

"Erm no, we were just talking for a second and I stopped by my trailer to freshen up." I made reference to the fact that the mop suit fucking sucked and I was free and clear now in some shorts and a t-shirt.

"But, uh, if you've already started without me, then, let's get naked." I smiled, she didn't.

"Don't flatter yourself cowboy, I don't do actors. I know it's been awhile since you've seen a woman with real breasts that don't look pre-teen, but get a hold of yourself."

"You don't _'do' _actors? Damn, what made you make that rule, huh?"

"None of your business. But just know, we're not happening. Ever."

"Because of my occupation. That's a little... bitchy."

"Then I'm a bitch, whatever." She dismissed the conversation, turning to step into her sundress. "Yes, I wanted to see you. Dude, what's up with that today? You were completely off your game. Do we need more dialect sessions?"

I was already having them everyday, how much could more possibly be?

"No, we're good. I was just… I didn't sleep so well last night, shit that shouldn't be getting in the way, is, and I guess it messed with my head. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, it is. I just, everyone has their off days. I just want to make sure it doesn't turn into an off week, you know? This production is already so screwed…" She ran her fingers through her hair twisting it into a high ponytail.

"It's not that screwed. We're chugging along nicely, despite all the problems at first."

"I wish I held your optimism… but yeah, I guess. Look, I'm heading back to the hotel so, um, enjoy your night off."

"Want some company?

Flirting with the boss? Probably a really bad idea, but I couldn't help myself.

"No, Casanova, I don't. Not from you anyway."

"Ouch! You really know how to get a guy in the balls don't you?"

She smiled, sinister and sweet, all at once.

"Just yours. Have a good night, but try not to pick up any hookers, okay?" she said, laughing as she passed me on her way out of her trailer door. I just resigned myself to the fact that I'd spend yet another night alone in my hotel room. The other guys had insisted that I go out with them—beyond insisted in fact. I'd just finished showering when there was a knock on my door.

It was Andrews. Andy Andrews, one of my co-stars who apparently had rather unimaginative parents.

"You have to come out man. Really, it's going to be a rager. Everyone from the crew is going to be there, and that hot chick Jessica, too. You never know, you might get laid."

"Thanks man, but you're not my type."

"Dude… Come on."

Did I mention he was your classic stoner hippy who decided that 'acting' was his way to enlightenment? Yeah, that was him. He was whacked, but he was a hell of an actor.

"I don't know, man."

"Lafayette is going and he's even gonna try and convince Queen Bitch to come out."

"Dude, come on. She's not a bitch, she's just stressed out."

"Stressed out, bitch. Why do you defend her? You know I found fucking ROCKS in my duffle bag yesterday dude? Fucking ROCKS. That shit is a prop. It's meant to be empty."

I laughed because whoever had done it, was a genius.

"Sucks for you. But stop bad mouthing her, okay? She's doing an amazing job with the clusterfuck that is this place and the 'team.' Cut her some slack."

"You sweet on her or somethin'?" he asked as I changed into my dark jeans and a simple plain white shirt.

"Don't be stupid, I have a girlfriend."

He nodded. "By the way, I saw the news on the web... you kept that quiet. Congrats, man!"

What the hell was he talking about?

"Huh?"

"The… well, the engagement?"

"Whose?"

"Uh, yours?" He pulled out his iPhone and began scrolling till he got to the blog in question. There was Sandy, just 'casually' posturing by her car, left hand a flutter in clear view of the lenses.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Uh, no, dude. I can tell you right now I didn't give her that ring. I'm not sure what's happening here but I'm not engaged."

"Weird. She's been telling people you are. The video is there, too," he said, handing me the phone so I could see for myself. I rolled my eyes and noted the time difference. I'd call her in the morning and straighten this shit out. Right then, I needed a drink. A large one.

"Let's go get shitfaced."

**SPOV:**

"I'm just so tired of being single, Sookie. It's been three years for cryin' out loud. I want a boy, no I want a MAN, but all LA has to offer is self-obsessed douchebags more into their looks than they are into their women. That, or they're married douchebags, or they're gay guys who just want to curl my hair! It's not fair!" Jessica ranted, sitting on my large bed like a genie with her legs crossed. We'd been on the wine since dinner, and once Laf joined us to make up for going out, we'd hit the harder stuff with him.

"You're doing a wonderful job by the way, Lafayette," she said, innocently as she sipped her vodka cocktail.

"Well, you know baby there are plenty of men out there who would kill to get their hands on you, either of you. You just gotta keep the faith."

"Psh, right," Jessica snorted. "I'm such a dork and everyone in LA is so … experienced. It's terrifying."

"Wait wait, are you sayin'... that you're a virgin?" Lafayette asked and I almost spat my drink all over myself. No way was she a virgin. She was hot, she was tall, and she was awesome - sure she was a bit scatterbrained, but guys didn't give a shit about that when you looked like her.

She just blushed.

"Honey, are you?" I asked her, using honey, because well, she was as sweet as honey.

"Horrible, right? I mean, who the hell is a virgin at my age? It's SO embarrassing. But in high school, I had super strict rules to live by—my parents are seriously religious—and in college, well, I was just too damn busy with schoolwork to date … and the longer I leave it, the harder it gets and I think I'm a freak. God!" She buried her head in her hands and I moved her drink away from her elbow on the table next to her.

"Jessica, you are _not _a freak, okay? I mean sure, finding a hot virgin in LA is like spotting a unicorn or something but that just means you have something special."

"Inexperience isn't special, Sookie. It's a hindrance."

"No, it's not. It's special and you'll find someone just as special. And when you, do you'll know."

"Or... you could just get really drunk and fuck a fake marine," Lafayette said making us both laugh.

"She's not fucking any of those guys. They're all assholes."

"Eric is nice," Jessica said sweetly.

Lafayette laughed. "Girl you got good taste. He's fine, isn't he? Fine as fuck. Sadly… for me, he likes the ladies. But he's a playful flirt; I like that about him."

"Oh, you mean how he'll flirt with anything that moves, male or female?" I asked.

"Ohh, honey, you jealous? I've seen you two go at it with the sexually charged sparring. Personally, I think you should fuck him, Sookie. Might relax you a little bit."

I glared at him. He knew good well what my issues were right now and still he made shitty jokes like that. Plus, Lafayette could make anything 'dirty' if he put his mind to it—even arguing.

"Why would Sookie be fucking him? She's engaged."

Right, that.

Lafayette just looked at me. "Something I should know?"

Jessica looked on expectantly, too.

"Alcide and I... we're on a break." Laf knew, Jess didn't.

"What does that mean?" Jess asked.

"It means, he doesn't know what fucking side is up and she doesn't either. Girl for real, break is just one word short of a break up. Personally, I think you both know what's up but won't take the steps to do it."

"It's not that easy, Lafayette. We've been together a long time, there's a lot of history there. I can't just throw that all away for nothing."

"So, you're scared of being alone? Is that it? We're all scared of being alone, sugar tits. But some of us just embrace it better than others. Do you love Alcide?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Are you _in _love with him? Enough to finally set a date for this wedding, be his wife and baby mamma?"

That was the harder question to answer. We'd been together so long, and from such a young age. I mean, before Alcide I'd maybe had one boyfriend, and that was just a casual thing. He was my first serious relationship right through college and beyond. I knew nothing else but him. I'd never been in love before I got with him, and I assumed that my love for him meant I was in love with him. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that maybe I was wrong.

I nodded my head no and they both sighed.

"Then I think you know what you have to do, Sooks. You have to let him know. The sooner the better."

"I can't, not now. I cant just end a six-year relationship over the damn phone."

But I would, as soon as I saw him face-to-face. I would do it. It was only fair to him, and if I was honest, fair to me, too.

"Right ladies," I began, "let's go to the bar and dance, shall we?"

**EPOV:**

I was drunk, there were cameras, camera phones and flashes every-fucking-where. I knew Facebook would be experiencing new uploads in the morning, but I didn't give a shit. The crew, the cast, we were all having a blast, and my tongue was blue from all the colored shots we'd been doing. Sookie, her producer person who's name escaped me, Lafayette and Jessica were dancing up a storm to something vaguely pop-tastic that the DJ insisted on playing. I realized I really liked drunk Sookie. In fact, mostly everyone did. She was hilarious, honest in a funny way—instead of her usual ball busting way—and she was handsy. Not that I was complaining at all but in a way I maybe should have been. Having a hot drunk blonde with those breasts dancing with you, her gay best friend, her assistant, and rubbing said breasts all up on you—by accident or not—was making me horny as hell. Not that that was shocking; alcohol made everyone horny and everyone seemed hot no matter what they looked like. That was a lesson I'd learned the hard way over the years, having woken up the next morning with some very questionable choices in a fuck partner. It was one of the first reasons Sandy and I had hooked up. Possibly not the best start to a relationship I'd imagine.

"You can't dance for shit, Northman. You're too tall. Too much leg."

"Oh, I'm sorry midget. Did you say something? You're so far away I can't hear you."

She poked me.

"Shut up! It's not my fault I'm … vertically challenged," she giggled. "Or that you're a freakin' giant."

I just smiled and she smiled back, See? Totally loving drunk Sookie.

The party had served it's purpose. It had united the cast and crew in a way that broke whatever ice might have remained between us all, and it got Sookie seen in a new light. She wasn't just Queen Bitch now, she was Queen Bitch who was a hilarious drunk and really not that scary. Everything was going well. We'd all been enjoying ourselves a little too much when it happened.

One of the local guys was hitting on Sookie, and at first she was looking like she was able to handle herself just fine. She was still ball-busting Sookie underneath the fun drunk girl.

But she started to look pissed, and closed off, clearly giving the guy the brush off as all of us expected and walked away from him. That's when he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall. The group of guys I was standing with were on him instantly, and Sookie just looked stunned.

"Jesus Christ," she said holding her arm where he'd grabbed her. "What the fuck!" she said screaming at the guy, and it happened before I could stop myself.

I'd hit him, square in the nose, a lot harder than I had intended to. There was a scuffle. Our guys, his guys, Sookie caught in the middle. Punches were thrown, blood was spilled. She'd tried her best to break it up but got an elbow in the ribs for her troubles. I was singled out buy his buddies and they laid into me pretty hard before I got out of the corner they'd managed to get me into. That's when I felt her grab my hand.

And heard the police sirens. The local guys stopped instantly as did our guys. Sookie looked freaked.

"GUYS, GET OUT OF HERE NOW! Just go," she said pointing to the back entrance of the shabby little bar. "Laf, take Jessica back to the hotel, okay?" she said as everyone scattered to the wind. She grabbed my hand again and we went to the front of the bar.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Well, I'm going to explain to them what happened and you can be my witness. It'll be fine." She was clearly not thinking straight. I didn't argue, I just grabbed her hand and yanked her back.

"What are YOU doing?"

"Sookie, don't be fucking stupid! We do this, I get arrested, you get arrested. The rules are different here."

She ran her hand through her hair before I yanked her out the back door. Before we got far, there was shouting. It was the cops.

Shit.

I began to run, and I made her run, too. The cop was old and slow and gave up pretty soon after we started running—something we didn't realize until later—so Sookie and I kept on running, before she yanked me to stop. Her shoes, her heels. She couldn't run any further. I stopped and pulled her shoes off, throwing them to the side of the road.

"Eric! Those were vintage Chanel for fuck sake!"

"I'll buy you a new pair," I said, taking off again.

"What part of vintage don't you understand?"

What was there to understand? It was just a fancy word for 'old as fuck' for rich out their ass people. But no, if I wore a shirt I had for four years I was being a cheap bastard. I didn't get it.

Eventually we stopped, realizing we didn't have the first clue where we were.

"Well, there's the beach, the hotel is near the beach," she said, unsure. "Ugh... no. Too tired. I don't even care," she said, wandering onto the barely lit beach. The lights in place for parking and such cast very little light onto the actual sand. "Oh this is nice," she said, walking on the cold sand in her bare feet before sitting down.

"I'm glad we ran. I mean, my dad always taught me to take responsibility for my actions or non-actions. But for right now? The last thing I needed was getting arrested, or getting my male lead arrested. So.. Yeah, good call," she said while yanking my hand to make me sit next to her.

"Yeah, freedom good. African prison, bad," I agreed.

"You didn't need to hit him though. That was fucking stupid."

"He shoved you; he was going to hit you."

She shrugged. "I could have handled it."

I scoffed.

"What? I could! I've taken self-defense classes, you know?"

"Oh, sure that went well."

"I don't need you to defend me, Eric," she said this time with a scowl, folding her arms as she shivered. "I don't need anyone to defend me. I can take care of myself."

Clearly, but why did that mean she should have to? I kept quiet and gave her my jacket, which she thanked me for before laying down on the sand. I joined her not long after.

"Sand is hard." She pouted.

"That it is," I agreed before I felt her shift beside me.

"Be my pillow?" she asked quietly and I wrapped my arm around her.

"Don't try anything, Northman. I mean it. I'll make you _Erica _if you do," she smirked.

"Don't flatter yourself, darling. You're not my type."

"Of course not. I eat, and _don't _see my meals in reverse."

I poked her.

"What? Please, just for the record... I think she's an idiot."

"Duly noted," she started, but stopped before she said anything else on the subject. Instead she used my jacket as a mini blanket for both of us. And before I knew it, we'd fallen asleep.

This wasn't what I meant when I'd imagined sleeping with Sookie Stackhouse. But for now, I guess it would do.

**A/N: Little bit of action this chapter, and it seems right now the only person Eric is angry at - is himself. What did we think? Reviews are more than encouraged and loved! Or hit me up on twitter if you have any other Qs or comments lol. The joys of a diet coke addiction, it's why the chapters keep appearing so fast! Hope you enjoyed! xox**


	5. Chapter 5

**SPOV:**

I woke up to the sound of waves and light snoring. I squinted as I opened my eyes, the sun was just starting to rise through the clouds. My head felt as if it was going to fall off.

Tequila. The drink of the devil.

The lull of Eric's breathing was relaxing, but then it hit me. I shouldn't be where I was to know that listening to his heart or his breathing was calming.

I sat up quickly, causing him to wake up somewhat.

"Five more minutes," he said groggily. I just stood up. My neck was really going to hurt for the next few hours at least, as well as the rest of me.

I looked around and realized we were about half a mile from the hotel. Damn it. Had I not been so drunkenly disorientated last night I might have saved us both some discomfort.

"Where's the fire?" he asked, noting my swift rise.

"Nowhere. I just want to get back to the hotel, get a hot shower and a coffee I.V."

"Want to be environmentally friendly?" he asked still stretched out on the sand, his shirt riding up on his tummy.

"How so?"

"I'll join you for that shower. Think of all the water we'd save." He grinned.

He really couldn't help himself, could he?

"You really need to give it up, Northman. I told you—"

"Right, you don't _'do' _actors, I know. But you know Sookie, there's an exception to every rule ever made. _Including_ yours."

I simply rolled my eyes at him.

"You have a vintage pair of shoes to find. I suggest you get looking." I said, looking at him expectantly.

"I told you, I'll get you a new pair. They're just shoes."

"Just shoes? Oh, you are such a guy. Just shoes? First of all, they're Chanel. Second of all, they're vintage." Yeah, I really needed other shopping partners besides Pam—she was wearing off on me a little too much, I realized.

"So they're old, pretentious shoes. Awesome."

I gasped.

He got up and started walking.

"You are such a … you know, I bet you're one of those people with like six outfits total in their wardrobe lasting them years, aren't you?" I said, tiptoeing out of the sand and onto the sidewalk. Now that I wasn't drunk, walking barefoot caused me a little more anxiety than it did before. I was skipping and tiptoeing my way behind him before he just stopped.

"Hop on."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll give you a piggyback ride. You look ridiculous walking like that. Just get on."

It was really painful, and well, it was still a good bit back to the hotel.

"Sookie, just do it for Christ sakes."

"Fine!"

I felt his hands go straight up my legs as he hoisted me onto his back. I felt as ridiculous as it probably looked. Then he stood up and wow, tall guy was tall.

It was when I felt his hands slip to my ass, that I had to protest.

"I'm up here just fine. You squeezing my ass isn't going to help me stay up this high."

He laughed, "Maybe not, but why take the chance. I could drop my director and then where would we be? Want me to run?"

"No!" I was nervous enough as it was. "Don't do that. I'm too far off the ground!"

"But you won't fall." He began to speed up.

"Eric!" I gripped onto his neck even tighter than before. I didn't even care if I left fingerprints at this point; I didn't want to fall!

He was laughing and jogging slightly when we reached the driveway of the hotel.

When he let me down, I felt nothing but awkward, and maybe a little motion sick.

"Um… thanks," I said, smoothing out my dress.

"Anytime," he said, with an almost shy smile breaking across his face before he did something I wasn't expecting. He reached over and tucked a piece of flyaway hair behind my ear. It was a simple gesture, but for some reason it sent shivers through me. Of course, I convinced myself it was the morning chill, the hangover, or the fact that we slept on a beach for five hours. But it wasn't. It wasn't any of those things. He looked at me then, before quickly looking away as we both got hit with a serious dose of awkward.

He coughed.

"So, I uh, we uh, better—" He pointed to the hotel and I nodded before we both walked inside.

I had nothing planned but to shower and get into a very large and empty bed and sleep the majority of the day away.

"Goodnight, Sookie," Eric said as I made a left to go towards my room, and he made a right to go to his.

"Good _morning,_ Eric," I said, rolling my eyes with a smile before he disappeared from sight.

I got in to find my cell beside the bed. I had six missed calls and three texts.

Jessica - _"Drink was evil and head was going to explode."_

Lafayette - _"Tell me you didn't end up in prison, call me when you get this."_

And one from Alcide. Short, simple, and heart-wrenching all at once. _"I miss you."_

"Ughhhhh," I said, slamming my head against my pillows. Why couldn't life just be simple? Why did everything have to be so fucking hard?

Turns out, I didn't know shit about hard that morning. The next two weeks of shooting were an absolute disaster and would show me exactly what hard was. Six of my 'marines' came down with a mysterious illness. Eric wasn't sick, but I could tell whatever they had, he'd get eventually. He kept on shooting and we shot around the others where we could. And then, oh then… Sandy showed up, with her two photo agencies. They followed her around the hotel, to our set—and as a result, stalked the damn set and me for photos, too. Lots of questions were thrown my way. "Are you acting again? It's good to see you…" "What's the movie about?" "Are you and Eric sleeping together? Is that why Sandy is here? Come on Sookie, talk to us!"

I was baffled, truly. So, I did what I always did when I was nervous or freaked out—I plastered on my fakest smile and told them thank you for their interest, but that it wasn't an interview. We managed to put up blackout gates the next day. To top things off, Eric's assistant, Hoyt, finally arrived—the day after the bar brawl—after being delayed for days due to flight mix ups. He was tall and southern. Two things it seemed that Jessica was just on the lookout for. They struck up a conversation almost immediately, leaving Eric and I to assist ourselves most of the time. I didn't begrudge the girl some flirting. In fact, it was too sweet to witness most of the time. They were both very innocent in that sense. Hoyt had been a friend of a friend of Eric's in need of a job to stay in LA, so Eric hired him. He was as un-LA as a person could get. And it was like Jessica's dream come true. She didn't say it, but I knew she was instantly smitten. But for fear of being fired, she kept it under wraps. There was no mistaking that smile, or the look in her eyes when she saw him. It was something that I realized was missing with Alcide and myself. It had been missing for a very long time.

Though I wanted to, I couldn't just immerse myself in my failed relationship woes. I had a production to save.

I managed to get a call into Pam late one afternoon as I freaked out about the state of my production.

"Sweetie, you have to relax, okay? Everything will be fine. Productions experience hiccups like this all the time. Just breathe."

"Pam, it's not that easy, okay? Everyone is sick! The crew are starting to drop like flies with their sick days, and now, Pam, now my lead actress is this close!" I indicated with my fingers even though I was alone pacing my hotel room, "This close to quitting, because she's been throwing up for three days and looks like a corpse. Pam, she can barely speak and I just… do not have the time, nor the budget, to stop production and re-cast." She wasn't the only one. In the last number of weeks, I'd wager I'd lost well over fifteen pounds with the stress and lack of sleep or desire to eat large meals.

"It's just two scenes, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but it's his hallucination here, so it needs to be on location. Remember? He gets shot and he's dying and he sees his dead wife. It's all very Lifetime movie. What can I say, I was PMSing when I wrote that part. But the network loved the angst of it all, so it has to be filmed here."

"And then when he's back in the States… he still sees her, right?"

"Right. Only occasionally. It's part of his Post Traumatic Stress… Shitting _shit_, Pam. What do I do here?"

"Jesus, sweetie, I don't know what to tell you. I mean, realistically your only option … is for you to do it."

"What?"

"You do it. You play Dena."

I gawped at my phone. She couldn't be serious.

"That is so … disgustingly Hollywood, Pam."

"It is if it's planned, and yes it's narcissistic and what have you—but again, only if it's planned. This is a last minute necessity, and really Sookie you know these characters inside out. You could nail this."

"Pam, it's been—"

"Thirteen years, blah, blah... yes, I know. But come on, you've been acting this shit out in your head since you wrote it. You can do this. And in fact, you will do this. Because if you don't, I quit as your manager."

"Pam!"

"What? I will! So go to wardrobe, get yourself fitted and go make out with Eric Northman. Mmmkay? Call me when it's done, sweetie."

She rubbed in the sweetie. She always did now that she knew it annoyed the shit out of me.

I was so screwed it wasn't even funny.

**EPOV:**

"What are you doing here?" I asked when she showed up at my hotel room door, late that Friday night.

"Wow! You know, you could look a little happier to see me. I did fly halfway across the damn planet," she said dumping her many, many, many bags in my doorway.

"I'm sorry, it's just a shock that's all. You didn't tell me you were coming."

"Well, I'm here, so... surprise!" she said, flinging her arms around my neck and kissing me—hard.

"Sand… Seriously, why didn't you tell me?"

She pouted.

"Well, honey, it's just that when we had that awful fight over the phone, I just felt so wretched and well, I wanted to make things better."

Wretched?

"Were you in London?" I asked.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Your accent … it um… well it sometimes changes when you go to different places. Just something I noticed, that's all."

She hugged me again and I let her as I hugged her back. It was nice having spent the previous month all alone at night with nothing to do but run lines with the bare walls and listen to the never ending splash of the ocean. The distraction was a welcome one, since the production was extremely close to being shut down completely. No one knew what was going to happen in the coming days. I felt sorry for Sookie. Knowing how much this all meant to her, and how hard she and everyone else had been working to get it right. For something as stupid as actors not getting their proper shots in time for filming in a foreign location, therefore coming down with the flu—vomiting and swift exiting from every other exit on the body… it was beyond preventable. All I knew was I had scenes with Ginger tomorrow. She was playing my wife, and she was currently head first in a toilet somewhere. Making out would not be fun, that's for sure.

"I am sorry you know, about the whole ring mix-up thing. Really, it was just that it didn't fit any other finger, and when they asked about it, I just laughed it off. Which I guess they took for an admission."

"You could have said no."

"I know, but sweetie, Bill is right, in a way. We have to keep people interested in us when the work dries up, otherwise they just forget about you. And once that happens, it's career death!"

"I'm sick of listening to Bill and his 'advice.' Did he tell you to flaunt the ring?"

She looked to the floor. That meant yes.

"Jesus, Sandy."

"What? Look, I'm sorry, okay? It won't happen again. But really, people are starting to ask questions…."

"About what?"

"Why we're not engaged." She fingered the buttons on my shirt as she spoke.

"It's been eight months. A rather rocky eight months, in case you have forgotten."

"I know but everyone is expecting it."

"Are _you _expecting it?"

"I don't care, as long as we get to tell people."

"Sandy… We're not getting engaged. It's not … the right time. And to be honest, getting engaged would be a huge mistake for us."

"Why?" she pouted again.

"I don't know if I want to get married."

"What?"

"What? Why is this shocking? Before you, I'd been single for almost two years. Marriage isn't something that I'm even thinking about right now."

"Who said anything about getting married? We get engaged, I get a ring, we get some positive press for a change, instead of them thinking you hate me. It's a win, win. It'll help promote this project as well."

"No, I don't think Sookie would be too happy if we did that. She's not into gimmicks."

She just rolled her eyes. "She's so annoying by the way, all do-gooder and hardworking. I looked her up online, and you know what? Her daddy is super rich and famous _and_ respected for fuck's sake, and what does she do? Oh, spends her Thanksgivings at a homeless shelter—without telling the press, might I add—instead of accepting a dinner invite from Steven Spielberg! She's fucking nuts!"

"Wait, what? You've been cyber-stalking my boss?"

Boss, flirting companion, friend. Whatever she was to me.

"No. I was just curious and I don't look at it as stalking. It's more like … getting to know her."

"Riiight… Still weird though, just so you know. And also for the record, we're not engaged, so please move the ring to the right hand."

"Eric!" she whined.

"What? No! I'm not proposing to you just so we can get press, Sandy. Jesus! End of discussion."

"Fine, end of discussion." She stopped touching me to sit on the other end of the bed. Clearly, now, we weren't having sex tonight.

I just got up and decided that a very long luke warm shower was needed.

On set call was for six a.m. I arrived at five to go over my lines in the makeup trailer. I'd been 'shot' yesterday. Those scenes were hard, I won't lie—the idea of being at death's door was the last thing 'Ryan' wanted. He was a fighter, and he believed in his cause. But he was fucked up from the inside out. His wife had died, which led to him enlisting, which led to his issues on the field. And once he was shot, he wasn't just thinking about her anymore. He was seeing her, too. In dreams at first, but they were so real that his reality was shifting, which led to him being sent home from war… which leads us to the second half of shooting, and 'Ryan' attempting to deal with his life as it is now instead of running from it, and his past like he had tried to do before. Sookie had done an amazing job piecing together all his little quirks. Like when we start, it seems like he's just this normal grieving guy, but by the end you get to see just how fucked up he really is underneath.

When I got to set, I was prepped for last minute changes and laid down on the 'hospital' bed that was inside the army medic tent, where I was to 'see' my 'wife' so realistically that it causes my reality to change.

Sookie came in for what I assumed was our pre-shoot talk. Instead, she lined up the camera guys and brought the shooting closer before she took off her robe… that she was in a robe at all confused me, but then I saw the dress.

It was Dena's dress. Or at least it was from what I remembered of the rehearsal a few weeks before.

"Sookie, what's going on?"

She sighed. "My worst nightmare, that's what's going on. Ginger quit. She's too ill to keep going and she's been admitted to the hospital for dehydration. I don't have the time, the budget or the remaining sanity to shut down and re-cast. So, here I am. I'm your Dena. Tell me you don't have an issue with that, please," she pleaded. She looked terrified in all honesty.

"N-no… I guess it's fine. I think… I mean, no... yes, it's—"

"Great. So this scene, it starts off with she … me and you just talking like it's a dream sequence but then you realize you can touch me, which is different from the times you'd seen 'her' before— Before you knew you couldn't touch 'her'... Got it? You know your motivation?"

I nodded. We'd been over this scene dozens of times. She didn't want cheesy, she wanted real. And with her in place of Ginger, I had a feeling it would be more real than either of us was ready for.

Kissing Sookie, it was so… oddly wonderful. It's the only way I can describe it. Leading up to it, our dialogue was so heated and so full of hurt and pain and sadness, and she emoted it all without effort. She was amazing. The passion in her eyes came alive and she completely embodied Dena. It gave me chills. Chills, and a rapidly increasing boner. As much as I tried to will it away, it was … hard, and there was nothing I could do about it. Sookie was seated in my lap as we confessed our love and desperate need for each other. My hands clawed at her dress, and hers nestled in my short hair as we kissed as passionately as two people could. We kissed, and we kept on kissing… I was waiting for the cue to stop, but it never came. Only when things were getting extremely uncomfortable for me down below had I to nudge her slightly—then she pulled back.

"Right... cut," she shouted out, with a blush creeping into her cheeks. Her fingers automatically went to her lips—they were swollen and red, and so fucking sexy, and oddly wonderful. I'd thought about this; about what it would be like to kiss her just like this. How could I not? She was beautiful, sexual, and she didn't take my shit. But I'd resigned myself to the fact that it was never going to happen outside of my imagination. She was engaged, she didn't 'do' actors and I was in a relationship—a fucked up one, but a relationship nonetheless.

But the minute her lips touched mine, it was like nothing else I remember feeling. There was electric currents running through my body, going right to my dick. I didn't want to be unprofessional and make her uncomfortable, but for a 'fake' kiss, nothing had felt as real in a long time.

It terrified me to think about what that meant.

We shot it again, and again, and again for the three angles needed. All the while, I knew Sandy was on set somewhere. I just hoped she was using the desert sun to top up her tan like she'd said she was going to.

When Sookie called cut for the final time that morning and detangled herself from me with a shy smile to talk with her producer and AD, I spotted Sandy. And she was clearly pissed off.

Awesome. Just, fucking awesome.

**A/N: *Glares at them* *Sigh* Who else thinks Sandy sees some chemistry she wished she didn't and gets Eric into some shit because of it? Hmm? Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I wasn't totally feeling it before I finished it last night, but fingers crossed it didn't suck too much! Thank you all again so much for the alerts and the Pms and the reviews, it's just so *grabby hands* Love it! :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**SPOV:**

_Disaster_. It's all I could think. I'd been close to tears four times and it was only noon. The day had gone from bad to worse, quite literally.

Pam was right. By the time I flew in an alternate actress for the role of Dena, got her fitted and ready to roll, we'd be over budget and time restricted completely. So I did it. I stepped into the role. My first in almost a small lifetime. I was shaking as the wardrobe assistant pinned me into the dress at six a.m. Jessica sat in the chair across from me, smiling like an idiot.

"You look so beautiful, Sookie."

"It's the glow. That's what stress gives you…" I mumbled.

"No, really, I think you'll make an amazing Dena. You're her. She's there to guide him back, right? It's all _so _romantic," she sighed.

"Speaking of romance… How's Hoyt?"

She sighed again, this time practically radiating heart eyes.

"Oh, Sookie... He's so wonderful, thoughtful, amazing, funny! He is so funny."

"Annnd?"

Her cheeks tinted pink before she spoke.

"And, he kissed me last night."

"About time! It's been what? Two weeks of solid flirting? About time he made a move."

"He's so wonderful. And really, since we've been hanging out I've gotten to know Eric a little bit, too."

"Oh, how _nice_," I answered.

"He's a nice guy! Underneath all the bravado, he's very thoughtful."

"That's great Jessica, really. But just be careful, okay?"

"Of Eric?"

"No, of Hoyt. I don't want you hurt by rushing into anything too fast."

She nodded before she handed me back my Blackberry. Pam kept texting me, informing me I'd be needing an agent and a PR person now that I was back in the acting world. It just served to make me ten times more nauseated.

"I met Eric's girlfriend. She's very um…"

"Weird?"

"Sort of. She's _very_ Hollywood. I mean, I offered her a tic-tac and she refused."

"Maybe she just doesn't like tic-tacs?"

"No, she told me it had too many calories!"

I burst out laughing. Because really, how else do you react to something so ridiculous?

"Awesome."

"She doesn't seem like his type at all! Even Hoyt says so. He doesn't get what's going on between them, but apparently, Eric is miserable most of the time."

"Well, he's a big boy. He can handle his own love life, I'm sure. If he didn't want to be with her, he'd break it off. So there must be something he likes… buried deep within her shallow as a teaspoon self somewhere." I shrugged.

"I don't like her. She's too clinging and whiny. Hoyt almost quit because of her, you know?"

"Why?"

"She keeps treating him like he's their maid or something. He hates it. Eric keeps apologizing to him because he knows he's a great guy but SHE on the other hand… ugh."

"Aw you're so cute, standing up for your man," I mocked a little, thinking about their problems took my mind off my own for a few minutes before I was ready to go to set.

When I saw Eric on set in costume, my nerves just crept right back up again. I mean come on, the last time I acted was with him was... a very long time ago. We were kids for crying out loud! And now? Now, I had everything on the line and if I sucked at this, all my hard work and a lot of other people's hard work would be shot to hell because of my failure! Nervous wasn't even a big enough word for what I was feeling.

Then it dawned on me, I hadn't kissed another guy since Alcide and I got together. That was six years of kissing the same guy. What if I didn't know how to kiss someone else? Never mind that that someone else was Eric Northman, for crying out loud, who was sitting looking confused and curious when I shed my robe.

Thankfully, he was chilled about the whole switching leading ladies thing. I had no idea what I'd have done if he'd thrown a hissy fit.

The hissy fit, however, would be saved until much later, and for his girlfriend. She was clearly a secure, confident, woman who had no fear whatsoever that her relationship wasn't anything other than solid….

Or _not._

I took on Dena's accent, not much different from my own, but with a softer mid-western flair. I figured she should have something to differentiate her from me right of the bat to help me focus on what was happening and who I was in that moment.

In that moment I was his wife. I was the love of his life, and he, the love of my apparent afterlife. Of course, it wasn't an afterlife at all. It was his scrambled psyche playing cruel tricks on him as he lay dying.

As I touched his face and brought us closer, each line of dialogue flying perfectly from his mouth, I focused in on it and his lips because as his wife—his long gone, never to return to him, dead too young wife—being with him in that moment was all I wanted. And we played it out, all the pain, all the suffering, all the angst and most importantly for that scene, all the passion that they had for each other, as we kissed. As it turns out, I hadn't forgotten how to kiss someone for the very first time. The kiss with Eric came easily; it felt … as natural as breathing. That was a problem. I'd managed to go into character a little too deeply, a little too fast, and I didn't want to break the scene because I felt their pain of having to let the other one go.

I felt Eric nudge me with his thumb, and I knew we'd gone too far. Yelling cut and pulling away from him was a lot harder than I'd anticipated. For a moment, I didn't know if the desire I was feeling was coming from myself, or if I was creating it for Dena. I'd forgotten what it felt like, to embrace that side of yourself, that hidden compartment where all your characters laid in quiet slumber waiting for you to bring them out to play.

It was then, right then, when I realized just how much I'd missed that feeling. And once I had it, I wanted to feel it again and again. I was elated.

Eric and I sat stunned, both of us realizing what the other was feeling after our third take and angle change.

"You miss this," he whispered to be as my AD measured the last angle right.

"I never said I didn't."

"Then why not do it again? You're clearly good at it."

Acting or kissing, I wanted to ask, but was interrupted by the makeup girls coming to retouch us.

"The fear, I guess."

"Of what? You're a natural, and it's clearly in your blood." He smiled but I was still freaking out inside.

"I'll think about it."

"Nothing to think about. You're here, you're Dena—much better than that Ginger girl any day." He grinned like a fool before pushing my hair behind my ears again. Apparently, much like flirting, this was just another quirk were he couldn't help himself.

"I can't believe we just did that. I mean, it felt like it went okay, didn't it?"

"More than just okay, it felt like it fit. The chemistry fit. You can't fake that… believe me."

I laughed, that was true. Hollywood was the land of make believe and fake it if you can't make it, but chemistry was always the one thing two actors either had, or they didn't. And apparently we had it, and then some.

The next morning, the one morning I had off and was planning on sleeping the day away, was so rudely interrupted by the shrill ring of my phone.

"What?" I said in lieu of manners or care.

"What the hell is going on, Sookie?"

"Pam?"

"Yes, it's Pam. What is going on?"

"Well, I was sleeping. What are you talking about?"

"All over the Internet, grainy photos of you—mystery girl slash former child star and Hollywood's bad boy, smooching the face off of each other in a tent."

I rubbed my eyes and managed to sit up in bed before I yawned.

"Well, that would be this little thing some people call _acting_. It's a new thing but I think it'll be popular."

"Not funny, bitch! You are a home-wrecker on the Internet. And now you have about three thousand new followers on that dreaded Twitter of yours, too."

"What?"

"Hmmm. Apparently some … well, _most_ people aren't too fond of Barbie and Ken together, and according to some blogs, you're a _more_ than suitable replacement."

"That's just nuts…"

"They saw the pictures Miss _'I don't know if I can do it,' _and so did I. They were fucking hot. Far away and grainy, but hot."

"It was just a kiss."

"A hot, chemistry-filled, sordid looking mess of amazing kisses," she corrected me.

"You've been reading too many romance novels in your spare time."

She scoffed. "Spare time? I don't know the meaning of those two words, Sookie. Anyway, I just thought I'd give you a heads up. That, and Eric is engaged."

"Huh?"

"He's engaged to Barbie. She's been flashing her shit all over town for days before … and I assume she's still there—she flew to Africa to be with her beloved."

Well that was news to me. He certainly didn't act like someone who was engaged. But then again, did I? Was I? I assumed I wasn't and I'd been putting off talking to Alcide ever since I'd decided I didn't want to end a six-year relationship over the phone—thousands of miles apart. He deserved more than that, and honestly, we deserved more than that.

My phone beeped. Call waiting.

Alcide.

Oh, just great.

"Pam, I've got to go. I'll call you later." As soon as I hung up, my phone rang again.

"Sookie?" I heard before I'd managed a 'hello.'

"Hi. How are you?"

He sighed. "Why are there pictures of you making out with Northman being emailed to me right now?"

"It's—"

"I mean, is this why things changed with us? Is it because of him? If you wanted to fuck someone else you should have just—"

"Hey! If you'd shut up and let me explain it might save you some embarrassment when you realize what a dick you sound like right now. The production is in trouble, as you know, and my actress quit. She's too ill to act, so it left me between a rock and a hard place—"

"His hard place," he quipped.

"Alcide! Are you even hearing what I'm saying? I took the role. So those pictures that you're seeing—that Pam has just this second told me about—are from that. On set, in front of dozens of people and in character."

He was silent.

"You thought I'd cheat on you?"

"I saw proof of it, or what I thought was proof. What other conclusion do you expect me to jump to?"

"I expect you not to just jump to that conclusion, Alcide! Not after all these years. Jesus! I've never cheated on you. Hell, I've never even thought about it!"

Again he was silent.

"Have you cheated on me?"

"NO! Jesus, never…"

"Have you ever wanted to, though?" I asked, not really sure where the question was coming from.

"Sookie, let's not do this over the phone, okay? You'll be home in less than a week, I'll be in LA and we can just sort this all out and everything will be fine."

Except it wasn't. That wasn't an answer.

"Cide, answer me. Have you ever thought about cheating on me?"

I heard him sigh again, which wasn't good.

"I… once. Just once, it was right after our fight in LA before you left. That next night I just…"

"And did you?"

"No, but I did think about it. She was just this model I knew and it would have been easy and you probably wouldn't have ever found out, but I couldn't do that to you. Or to us. And the thought that maybe you did, it killed me."

"But you wanted to. Isn't that the same thing? I mean, not physically, but in your head you'd moved on. In your heart—"

"In my heart I knew I couldn't do it. So I didn't. Not when I thought there was still a chance for us. But the more time we left it, the more I've realized we're just putting off the inevitable."

I sighed, sitting back down on my bed. "I didn't want to do it like this."

"Me either," he agreed.

"But we're doing it like this, aren't we? I mean, is this what a break-up talk sounds like…? I wouldn't really know."

"I guess it is. I didn't want it to end, you have to know that."

"I didn't either, but, Cide we don't want the same things anymore. And that's just not fair to either of us. You deserve someone who's willing to give you what you need, and let you be the guy that she needs above everything else in her life. Because you're amazing and I do love you."

"And I love you. I think I've loved you since I knocked you over in that hallway in Brooklyn." He laughed through what I knew to be his silent man tears. "But you're right, we both need different things from our lives right now… I don't really know how to live life without knowing you'll be there for me, Sookie," he admitted.

"I'm still here. We're not dying, or moving to the moon, I'm always here. Email, text, Twitter, Facebook, you'll find me everywhere. And you know how addicted I am to my Blackberry…" I joked… well, half joked. I was a technology addict that's for sure.

"Good, that's good. And same here, you know? For you. If you ever need me for anything…"

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too, kid," he said with that sad tinge to his voice I knew so well. This was the end of us, our coupledom was no more. We weren't a 'we' anymore. We were just an 'I'- alone. The thought was terrifying.

I hung up and took a shower. I'd been in there maybe all of five minutes when it happened. The floodgates opened and I burst into tears. The tears I'd been holding in all day, all week, all month.

Everything was falling apart. My life was in shards in every direction and it felt like there was nothing I could do about it.

I was all out of ideas, so what happened when I ran out of ideas? I got drunk, very drunk.

Drunk sounded good right about now.

EPOV:

"So you're denying it then?" she demanded as we walked back into the hotel room.

"Jesus... For the last time, it was a scene. There was dialogue and everything."

"It didn't look like acting to me. In fact, you seemed very much alive for a dying man. And she? Oh, do not get me started on that whore."

"Sandy, that's enough!"

"So you're defending your little fancy woman now, are you?"

"Oh, my actual GOD! Listen to yourself. Yes, it was an intimate scene. Yes, we have a certain chemistry, and yes, it probably looked more … realistic than it should to some people, but isn't that the point? We're trying to sell these characters and to do that we have to make it believable. I won't apologize for doing a good job."

She was still pissed and pouting by the time I was showered for dinner. We were off the day after next, and I wanted to do nothing more than just sleep it all off.

"Fine, if you say so. But tomorrow you're mine, and we do what I want. I'm tired of just waiting around for you to stop working. It's dull and there aren't even any designer shops here. What the hell is up with that?"

She insisted we take a walk on the beach since she'd felt 'bloated' after dinner. I agreed because it was a beautiful night. Being on the beach, however, only served to bring me back to Sookie—as did everything, it seemed. I couldn't lie and say I wasn't worried about her. She was too nervous and under too much pressure with everything that was going wrong. I didn't know how she was handling it; I wasn't sure I could've had I been in her shoes.

The next day, I'd managed to get some sun on the beach as I killed some time, going over my script between walks up and down the shoreline. Only this time, it was clear Sandy and I weren't alone.

"What the fuck? Sandy, how'd they know where we were? I didn't even tell Hoyt where I was going this morning!" I let go of her hand almost instantly. Like hell if I was going to line a pap's pocket even more than I probably already was, as he clicked away.

"I don't know! They followed me here."

"Is that right? And to set, and shopping and around the city? Come on, I'm not stupid."

"Well, it's just after those shots of you kissing another woman showed up online, we needed to fix it, baby. We can't have people thinking you cheated on me with a fat, washed up child star, now can we?"

"Excuse me?" I said turning to her.

"Oh, Eric don't get mad just because I don't like your new boss. You're almost done with her anyway and we can just go home and get things back to the way they were. Us, hanging out and being cute together."

"She's… you… Jesus. You know, I knew you were self-obsessed—all us actors are to a point—but this is just downright spiteful. She's not any of those things, Sandy. She's amazing and so talented. You can't even see that because all you think about is yourself and your image. It's … I'm so … disappointed in you."

"Why?"

"When we met, you were so different. You were sweet and funny and real. Then we got together and you morphed into this… I don't even know what."

"Stop arguing with me in front of them. They'll print it and we're screwed."

I just held my hands up to her.

"Fine, I won't argue with you. I won't argue with you at all. I'm just leaving. It'll be easier on all of us. You and your pap friends have a nice time on the beach."

She tried to protest through a smile but I just walked off, not really giving a shit what the guy with the telephoto lens thought of me at the moment. I'd gone to the hotel bar to calm myself down. Wrong decision after wrong decision seemed to haunt me lately. I wanted to know when I'd start making the right decisions, creating some good karma like Calvin would ramble on and on about. Calvin Norris, my manager of six years, all-around LA self-help junkie and plastic surgery addict. It was his idea to hire Compton Copy, the PR firm known mostly for being viscous and unstoppable in their attempts at getting their clients publicity. They'd go to any means necessary to do the job. It was over the past eight months that I'd seen just how far they'd go to save face. It was really a little ridiculous. What was wrong with being real? What was wrong with being approachable and attainable? Being normal?

For so long, throughout my childhood and into my adolescence, I'd fought 'normal' like it was the monster under my bed. The last thing I wanted to be was some boring ,normal kid from Sweden. I wanted to be loved by everyone, to entertain everyone, and as I got older, I wanted to be seen as more than just 'the cute one' in a ensemble cast. I wanted to break the mold I'd spent years allowing other people to put me in. But the harder I tried to be someone else, the harder it became to find a role or a studio that would take me seriously. It happened once and I'd fucked it up. I hoped I wouldn't fuck it up twice.

I'd gotten through three glasses of Jack before I headed back up to my room, to find Sandy packing.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. I have things I have to do, and you clearly don't want me here, so I'm going. I got a flight out tonight, and I have to leave soon." She sounded hurt, and for the first time in months, she sounded real.

"Sandy, come on. I'm sorry, okay? I just don't like all the bullshit. I just want to work."

"We all do, but it's not that easy for some of us. That town, Eric... it's so cutthroat and if you don't stay relevant you may as well just pack up and move back to Sweden. If you don't stay alive in their eyes you may as well be dead. Sad, but true. I've learned that lesson. So yeah, I fight for my attention because I deserve it. And because there are a dozen more girls coming behind me to take my roles… so I fight and I fight to win. Does that fight always remain clean? No, but that's life. It's my life and it's your life. And the sooner you drop that idealistic notion that you can be a respected actor and still remain anonymous, the better."

"I get the need to sell yourself, I do. But all the time? To everyone? What's left for you, then?"

"Not much, but you work with what you have. And I thought you understood that. When Bill suggested we hook up—"

"What? Bill suggested it?"

Bill just so happened to be her PR guru, too, as it goes. I should have fucking known.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I liked you, and he told me you liked me too… what's wrong with that?"

"What else did he tell you?"

She bit her lip.

"Sandy?"

"That we both could use a little boost and what better way to do it than be the next IT couple?"

I closed my eyes. That bastard was so beyond fired.

"So, you're with me for the attention?"

"No. I like you a lot, I really do, and we do have things in common. You're a great guy when you're not mad at me, or the world, and I'm attracted to you—you know that much. So, had Bill not said something, I probably would have flirted with you but stayed with my ex. But he did say something and I did make a move and you responded… so I kept on making moves and you kept on responding."

"And that's what you call a relationship?"

She sighed, zipping up her large suitcase.

"Well, it sure beats being alone, doesn't it?" She kissed me then, before standing on her tiptoes to hug me.

"I'll see you back in LA once you've gotten over whatever this place and Sookie Stackhouse has filled your head with. Get it out of your system, Eric, then we'll talk about starting over."

"Starting over?"

"I'm going to LA and I'm having lunch with some friends. One of them is my ex. What happens from there, I don't know. But as far as we're concerned? The bitterness stops here. I want to be with you, and I'm giving you the time to decide if you want to be with me." She petted down my shirt, making sure it was straight.

"Call me, okay?"

And with that she was out the door, all her luggage in tow. I on the other hand, wasn't drunk enough for this bullshit.

And as it turns out I wasn't the only one feeling the need to get drunk. I discovered, in a dive of a bar in the middle of Namibia, surrounded by old local guys with missing teeth, Sookie Stackhouse on a bar. Legitimately standing on a bar singing her heart out, drunk as a skunk, providing me with one of the most interesting nights of my life.

**A/N: Questions, comments, concerns? What do you like, what do you hate? I'm dying to hear from you! :D **


	7. Chapter 7

**SPOV:**

I walked into a small bar. It was a dive but it had a sign outside for good old fashioned shots of vodka and tequila—the best memory loss tool I'd found in my time of drinking. It was run down and shoddy. There was a barmaid about my age with long dark hair braided into a large bun on the side of her head. She looked Spanish with a mix of something else. Either way she was beautiful—too beautiful for a place like this.

The bar was lined with four guys in their late sixties and two even older guys playing pool and arguing in a language that I couldn't make out.

Shot one—the surroundings were still awkward. No one really spoke to each other or to me, but by shot six, that was starting to change.

"Maria, you're awesome! Isn't Maria awesome?" I said to old guy number one on my left. Later, I'd learn his name was Grandos. Maria was the barmaid's name. By drink … eight, nine or ten, it was well after dark and I was on my way to passing out. It didn't happen however, since I was busy hearing both Grandos and Maria's life stories simultaneously. That's when the karaoke started up. Where the machine had come from I'd never know, but it had appeared as well as tiny stage in the corner of the bar. One of the old guys was clearly an Elvis fan, since he was singing Hound Dog in broken English—swiveling hips and all.

My cell buzzed for the eighth time that night—Jessica, worried that I'd just disappeared. Personally, at that moment I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be back in my tiny New York apartment with nothing to worry about other than setting up for a play rehearsal the next day, or shooting photos in the park. Instead, I was in the arse end of Nowhere, Africa with the Internet stalking me, broken up and alone after spending six years with who I assumed was the love of my life—the man I'd marry one day and be happily ever after with. But we were both wrong and now we were both single. Starting over all alone, the terrifying prospect of that made me nauseous. Or perhaps that was all the Patrón.

The sad thing was, it was the least of my problems. My production, my baby, my hard work and ass-kissing for the last almost four years was falling down around my ears.

My actors were sick but they kept going as much as they could. I shot around them where I could, but becoming Dena was not something I'd scheduled for. I was an actress again? That definitely wasn't on the agenda. To make matters worse I'd gotten two more emails from Pam. In my drunken state I only partly understood them, but apparently footage of Eric and I and that now infamous scene had leaked onto the Internet. There was a frenzy amongst his fans, and apparently a resurgence in interest in him as a leading man. The worst part? There was a valid interest in me as a leading lady, too. Pam had said in the three hours since the grainy footage went viral, I'd had three script offers and one studio interested in making a deal with me regarding directing. I was baffled, but too drunk to even attempt to write back to her, unless she was good at decoding drunk-speak.

Somehow I got roped into singing. Now, I wasn't a bad singer—I had a good tone and I did love to sing—but I was drunk, so the usual freak-out reaction didn't happen. Instead, Maria and I hopped up onto the bar top, old shoddy microphones in hand, and belted out the Robert Palmer classic, Addicted to Love. Though, with Maria's accent and my slurred words, it was hard to tell what we were addicted to.

That's when I spotted him—looking extremely bemused and far too sexy for someone in real life—standing there all ridiculous and tall, and ridiculously tall. Besides thinking he rocked a white shirt like no other man I could ever recall rocking it so hard, I could only think one other thing.

How the hell did Eric find me?

**EPOV:**

Sandy left, and with her exit, entered my state of utter confusion.

It was like part of me knew that cutting her loose and being on my own was a good thing, just like part of me knew that being a paparazzi pet wasn't going to help my career the way I wanted it to. I was a private person, for the most part. If someone asked me something and I wanted to share it with them then I'd tell them of course, but did that mean that I wanted my entire life on film? No. If I wanted that, I'd have done the reality show Bill had suggested. But I didn't want that. Sure it worked, it got people talking and made everyone millions of dollars and allowed that person to become what they wanted at the cost of forfeiting their name and their existence and sticking it on TV, sticking it on perfume, sticking it on chewing gum for crying out loud. But the other part of me knew, had witnessed firsthand that part of what Sandy was talking about was true. It was a sad truth, but it was still a truth. Sometimes people got lucky. They got noticed and respect and everything, right off the bat. No hassle, no fuss. Then there were some who had to fight for that respect, for that attention. Believing in yourself wasn't easy all the time, and I realized that somewhere between exiting my teen years and entering my twenties, I'd lost that faith in myself. More to the point, I stopped believing that I had a valid talent worth sharing, worth working on or attempting to improve. So I took the shitty movies, the two dimensional characters and teen heartthrob roles. The cash was good, staved off the boredom for a little longer and kept my brain semi-occupied. But that was the choice I had to make. Did I want the easy road of shit roles and product endorsement, did I want to be a celebrity, or did I want to be an actor?

I always thought I knew which road was the right one, and which one I wanted to be on, but the two had gotten so blurred in recent years that I wasn't sure which was which anymore.

I was deep in thought as I attempted to find my happy place, when the knock came to my hotel room door.

Hoyt and Jessica were on the other end of it.

"Have you seen Sookie?" Jessica asked with a weary sigh, as they both just walked right on into my room.

"Erm, no? Should I have?"

"Well, she's not here, and she's not answering her phone. We came back from dinner and she wasn't in her room either. Eric, she never turns that Blackberry off and it's stuck to her hand or hip twenty-four seven. I'm worried."

"Okay, there aren't that many places she could have gone, right?"

"What if she's been kidnapped?" Jessica asked, sounding more freaked out now than before.

"Okay, just calm down, okay? She's probably fine and just off by herself or gone for a walk or something."

"Oh, Jesus! What if she's been kidnapped and sold into a sex slave ring? It happens you know! And for a young white woman in her twenties alone in a foreign country? It's—"

"Jess… you need to calm down," Hoyt interjected, thankfully. "Eric's right. She's probably just off chilling by herself for a little while, that's all."

"I'm worried, though. She's been through so much lately. Between the production going all but tits up and things with her fiancé ending like it did… she's in bits but she won't say it."

"What happened with her fiancé?" I asked, trying not to make it obvious that I might have been doing an internal happy dance at the prospect of a single Sookie.

"They broke up. It's just so sad, after six years together, too."

"Did he break up with her or did she break up with him?"

"Um, she broke up with him. He wanted a family and the whole nine yards and well, I guess she doesn't… so they ended things. It has to be so hard on her, on both of them. Six years is nothing to be sneezed at."

Jessica was so adorable with her sayings sometimes: 'sneezed at,' 'even a blind hog finds an acorn now and then' was another, as well as 'going the whole hog'. She was peculiar to say the least, but she matched Hoyt strand for strand in his peculiarity.

"Okay, look, I'll go up towards the bars and the shops and see if I see her. You two try the beach and ask the other guys—if you seem them—have they seen her. Call me if you find her."

"Do the same," Jessica said taking off with Hoyt by the hand. I threw on a fresh t-shirt, grabbed my room key and cell, and went in search of our MIA director.

The strangled sounds of Addicted to Love were being belted out, by one Miss Sookie Stackhouse and her pretty female friend, and duet partner. They stopped and bowed and ignored the small crowds pleas for more. She spotted me and simply rolled her eyes as I walked over and offered her my hand in attempts to get her down on solid ground again.

"How'd you find me?"

"Six bars in the whole town, you choose the shittiest one… and this was the last on my stop… so …"

"Well, you can go, I'm fine. Why are you even looking for me?"

"Jess was worried so she and Hoyt came to me looking for you."

"Why would I be with you, of all people? Aren't you busy entertaining your fiancée?"

"Well, I'm sure I would be, if I had one. But since I don't, I guess I'm not."

"Oh sure... Well…The Internet said you're engaged."

"Well, the Internet also said I was gay last month. The Internet is full of shit."

"So you're not engaged?" she asked, swaying slightly.

"Nope, and neither are you." I grabbed her left hand and raised it so I could see her ring.

"It's nice. Too bad it's bullshit."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she said, clearly lying, backing away from me to sit on her stool again.

"He givin' you trouble So-key?" asked an old guy with white hair to her left. His dark skin betrayed his age, and his large brown eyes fixated on me. He was far older than me but something told me if he wanted to, he could kick my ass.

"No, no Grandos. He's not. He's Eric."

"Ah, Swedish boy who is in the acting with the guns." His English was broken but he got the gist.

"Uh, right. Sookie, can I talk to you outside for a second?"

"No! I think we'll have another song, that's what I think. I like to sing. Eric want a drink?"

"No, I want to talk to you."

"Well, I don't want to talk right now, I want to _sing! _So either get up here and sing with me, or leave." She cocked her hip and raised her brow the customers in the bar all giving her their full attention. We both stood out like two big blonde sore thumbs in that bar. It was almost funny what a contrast we provided.

"Sing, sing, sing..." Came the chant from the patrons as well as the barmaid.

Sweet Jesus, what was I doing?

Sookie slid up onto the bar again before standing and receiving her microphone from the barmaid, then handing me mine as the familiar piano intro began.

"You've got to be kidding me…" I mumbled as Sookie downed another shot and handed me my first. I'd need it to kick in real fast as she started to sing.

"_Hey kids, shake it loose together. The spotlight's hitting something…" _She hit me on the arm laughing as I finally stood up too, my head almost hitting the roof in the process. The tiny crowd clapped and cheered and I began backing up Sookie's out of tune singing.

"_That's been known to change the weather, we'll kill the fatted calf tonight so stick around."_

"_You're gonna hear electric music, solid walls of sound," _I took solo before we launched, Bennie and the Jets and according to Sookie—there was electric boobs underneath her shoes. She said it every time. And every time it caused me to crack the hell up. We were joined on our tiny 'stage' by the barmaid who's name I'd learned was Maria. She had pipes, that girl.

We took our bow, mine more awkward and much more sober than Sookie's and she let me lift her off the bar. We danced to more bad karaoke, we drank more than she should have since she was already on her way to a shit-tastic hangover as it was, but we did. We danced and we drank and I enjoyed what seemed like a carefree Sookie again. She was laughing and bonding and handsy—the girl liked to touch. Not that I was complaining in the slightest, flirting insistently under the guise of just innocent dancing. It was far from innocent, at least from where I was standing. The look in her eyes when she'd push herself up against me, or snake her hands to my sides 'accidentally' grazing my skin as I 'accidentally' grazed hers. Two more shots of tequila later and she was done.

"Guys it's been really amazing, but I have to go!"

The bar didn't like that idea.

"No, So-key, stay it's fun!" Maria said, a hint of a Spanish accent coming out.

Her name was So-key, now?

We were offered two more shots for the road. Sookie offered them to me since it was clear she was almost on her last legs.

We got outside the bar and the air seemed to hit her fast.

"I drank too much. Ha!" she said as she leaned against the wall. "I hate shoes. I mean, I love shoes, but I hate them, too. Stupid heels."

"Why'd you disappear tonight?"

"I felt like it. I needed a little break from my reality, okay? Surely you of all people can understand that."

"Meaning what?"

"Just… you. Your life. It's all one big escape. Your career was falling down but what did you do? Nothing. Instead of trying to fix it, you just ignored it and it got worse and worse and then that sucky choice system of yours bled into your personal life, and look how good that's been going lately."

"My personal life is none—"

"Of my business? Please! Sure, it's not my business but it's the business of the rest of the world? Weird. Huh?"

"You sound bitter about that."

"I am bitter about that because I know you're better than that shit."

"How do you know that?"

It was the question I'd been asking myself since she showed up at the hotel in LA. Where did that faith come from? Where did the belief in me come from when I didn't even have any in myself.

"How do you know that, Sookie? Maybe I'm not... maybe what I had is gone. Maybe this was a huge mistake… So tell me, how do you know?"

"Because I just do, okay? I know you. I knew you—the kid with all that talent just busting at the seams, waiting to be tapped into and explored. But you didn't. You half-assed it. And that's the pity about this whole thing. You bought into it. You bought into those people really loving you and wanting you and respecting you, when in reality all they were doing was using you. For their own amusement, or for profit, or for some kind of gain to help them. And you bought into the lie. You never buy the lie, you sell the lie… _Sweetie," _she added. The bitterness more evident now.

"And are you selling the lie or buying it? This relationship of yours, it's done. It's been done since you got here but you played it up like it was the best thing that ever happened to you."

"Maybe it was."

"That's bullshit. If it was you'd still be with him."

"What the hell would you know about a real honest to God relationship, Eric? What you have with Barbie doesn't count. It doesn't count if it's your agent's or your publicist's idea."

Did _everyone _but me know about that?

"I'm going home," she pouted, standing up shakily this time. I tried to help her but she was having none of that. "I can find my own way, thank you very much. You aren't stealing my shoes again!"

We walked slowly up the cobbled street. It was empty save only a few people milling in and out of the various bars at that hour.

"Why are you so tense?" I asked her, still in an argumentative mood.

"Because you're around. It's a by-product of your existence," she sassed.

"Funny."

"Yeah, I'm a real comedian."

She stopped again, leaning against another wall this time to take off her shoe.

Pebble.

That's when I heard it. It was a quiet sob, but I heard it.

The orange street lamp across the way—the only light on the entire street—cast a warm cozy glow along the old run down buildings.

I stood her up before I took her foot and leaned it on my knee, putting her heel back in place.

"Better, now?"

She nodded, but I needed a real answer.

I tipped her chin up so she could face me and she tried to blink away her tears. But it was too late, I'd seen them.

"Hey… Let it out, just tell me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

She sobbed once, "Because if I do you'll think I'm a stupid failure and it's pathetic… and I don't want you to think that about me."

How she could have thought I'd think that, was beyond me.

"That's the last thing I'd ever think of you, Sookie."

"I think that about me, so why wouldn't you? I'm just a stupid girl with ideas above her talent. I had all these big plans, Eric. And they all fell flat… the production is a wash, everything is wrong, I hate being in charge—God, I hate it so fucking much. I want help. I want someone else to worry about the shot listings and the actors and the script and if we have enough money on budget for what we're doing, or if people will even like it. Will it even see the light of day, will all this be for nothing? I just want to forget it all, just forget it ever existed. Can you make me forget it all, Eric?"

I couldn't answer those questions because I didn't know what to say. I just wanted to make her stop crying. I wanted to make her smile, but I couldn't think of a single word to say to make that happen. So I didn't say anything, instead I used action instead of words for once.

And I kissed her.

I kissed her finally as Eric and she kissed me back as herself, as Sookie. Not Ryan and Dena. There was no pain, no tragic back story, no death. The only pain that was felt came when I began pulling away from her to breathe. There was no dialogue to remember, no crew standing around watching, no sound mics, no cameras.

There was only lust, and that need to feel something real. For the first time in a long time, I did. That need radiated from both of us as I backed her up against the old brick building, falling down at it seams, lit only by that one little orange light. It provided all the heat we needed as we explored each other with our hands and with our kisses. She didn't stop it, and neither did I. There was that underlying hunger to her kissing that spurned me on even more than before. We broke apart, briefly, awkwardly, in an attempt to get out of the street and into the hotel before either one of us talked ourselves out of what we wanted to happen.

**A/N: Hi there again, this daily updating thing starting to bore you yet? I have a problem, I know! It's like an addiction … or can we blame the epics amounts of caffeine I consume? Eh, who knows! Thank you all again and again for the review love and adds! It's amazing and so encouraging you have no idea! And for those of you asking, there IS a Life, Accidental sequel on the way, I just wanted to get this baby off the ground before we go back to the other two, they can be just as demanding! :D Reviews are loved xoox .**


	8. Chapter 8

**SPOV:**

I remember standing in the elevator beside him, an older woman stood in front of us, though we barely noticed her. We were both practically humming with nervous anticipation, or maybe that was just my alcohol filled brain dying from the inside out? I had no idea at that point. All I knew was once the lady stepped out to her floor, Eric pinned me up against the elevator wall, his hands in my hair, his mouth on my mouth while I was merely on the receiving end of one very toe curling kiss.

"You have boundary issues, Northman."

"You like my boundary issues, Stackhouse. Admit it," he said kissing me again. Before I knew it, we were outside his hotel room door as he struggled to get the old-fashion gold key into the even older door.

We got inside without our bodies separating from the other. I was pressed up against the old black door in no time at all. It was so wrong how turned on I was just from kissing. I hadn't gotten this much pleasure from simple kisses since I first learned how to kiss. He was that good, and this time there was no crew standing around watching us. I was free to be myself and kiss him as much as I wanted. And I wanted. My drunk self wanted this, she wanted it all. Not just stopping at the sweet yet somehow so completely sexually charged kisses; no, she wanted to embrace her inner harlot and sex him up and down around the entire hotel room. It wasn't that difficult to do. In fact, Eric seemed pretty on board with just about anything, and since both his and my hands were frantically grabbing, pulling and pushing each others buttons already… It was safe to say he was right about that whole chemistry thing since it was shaping up to be even more explosive behind closed doors.

I was breathless as he slid on top of me—his weight somehow being held up by those arms of his hovering over my head—his lips never leaving mine as he began to unbutton my shirtdress having already shed my shoes when we slammed the door shut. As I caught my breath slowly somewhere between the door and the bed, I began to regain my senses.

Though those senses were being assaulted on overload by everything Eric in that moment.

"We…"

"French for yes?" he smirked as his lips explored my neck again.

"No. We have to… should stop."

"Horrible idea, just horrible," he smiled into my neck. I could feel his scruff against my skin.

That's when I started to panic. This should not be that easy. I just walked away from a six year relationship, I was in the middle of a disastrous production, I was a rapidly sobering drunk, weepy and needy. This was not the time to have sex with him. Not now, not like this, and possibly not ever. He was my employee for fuck's sake. What kind of reputation was I making for myself? A second rate director who fucks around on set? How_ cliché._

No.

Pushing him off me slightly so I could at least look him in the eye, he looked confused, horny and hurt, all at once. I just felt like a bitch.

" We—" I was just about to speak when there was a heavy knock on his door. He knew we were at a standstill, so he moved off of me readjusting his pants as he made his way to the door. I slid off the bed and crept into the bathroom.

I heard their voices; it was Jessica and Hoyt. Thank you, Gods.

After splashing a little water on my face and tying back my hair, I walked out of the bathroom to be attacked by Jessica in the form of a hug. She was always hugging people—always.

"Thank God you're okay. Oh _God_, Sookie I was convinced you'd been kidnapped. I mean, I just didn't know what to think when you didn't answer your phone I can't even—"

"Wow... Relax. I'm fine, see? All in one piece. Just a little worse for wear, I guess but I'm fine. I just needed some time to myself."

"Which is why you ended up in Eric's hotel room?" she asked me innocently enough, but it triggered my inner bitch to come out to play.

"Jessica, I'm sorry that you had to worry about me, but you're my assistant _not _my mother. As you can see I'm fine so I'd appreciate it you and Hoyt would just…" I sighed. "Can you just go? Please? My head is spinning and your hurt puppy look isn't helping me right now."

Yeah, total bitch.

"I'm sorry," she said. And I wanted to accept her ever ready hug and tell her not to be sorry; that I was just a drunken fool who was in the middle of a meltdown; to pay no attention to me and to just go chill out with her new boyfriend. Instead, I didn't. I just stayed silent as they left. Leaving Eric and I and a lot of awkward tension.

"So, before Scooby and Scrappy interrupted us, I believe we were in the middle of something," he said sauntering in my direction.

I slipped on my shoes as he looked on in confusion.

As he got closer, the room seemed to get smaller. His height could be intimidating when it wanted.

"It's not happening. Thank God they interrupted when they did. This would have been a terrible idea."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Wrong. I'm very serious. Besides, like I've said, I don't do actors and _especially_ not actors who are working for ME, in my employ. I mean, Jesus, what was I thinking? I wasn't thinking…" I shook my head.

I was sobering up far too fast and my body was feeling the effects of a hangover and I hadn't even been to sleep yet.

Fuck.

"So that's it?" he asked, his voice full of unnecessary indignation.

"What exactly did you expect? That we'd fall into bed together and somehow all of our problems would go away? Doesn't work like that. In fact, fucking you would have only caused a shit load more problems that I'm just not willing to deal with right now."

"And I get no say in this at all, is that it?"

"Well, you could force me I guess. But we all know what that's called, and you can be a dickhead but I don't think you're a rapist, right, Eric?"

"You know I'd never force _anyone_ into _anything_, ever. Don't even joke about that shit."

"Fine. Then stop acting like I kicked you in the balls and get over it."

He just rolled his eyes at me.

"You are so full of shit, Sookie. I'm shocked it's not coming out of your ears."

That might have been true, but my shit was still true, too.

I opened the door but his hand shut it. I turned to face him and his expression was almost unreadable.

Well, except for the confusion, that much was still perfectly clear.

"If I asked you to stay, to forget about all that other bullshit that's going on, just be here and in the now… with me, would you?

I shook my head no. No matter how good he looked, or felt, or tasted. I couldn't do it, I wouldn't.

"You had a girlfriend. At least you did yesterday as far as I'm aware. And I had a fiancé. Trying to get over him by getting under you might have been a ton of fun, but in the harsh light of day I'd hate myself for it. And you would too, taking advantage of your drunk and emotionally fucked up director. Not great options, huh?" I said buttoning up the side of my dress that Eric had made a start on getting off me.

I moved his hand from the door and he let me. For a guy his size and strength his hands were incredibly soft.

"Let's just file this under a lesson learned and move on, shall we?" I said.

"What if I don't want to do that?"

"Then… I don't know, Eric. I don't know what to tell you. But you and I aren't going to happen. Not now, not ever. I have too much at stake right now and this drama, this stupid cliqued drama … no, just no."

"So let me get this straight, you want me, but you don't want me? You know I want you, but you don't want me to want you?"

"Exactly. The only thing I want from you is for you to do your job, not me. Are we clear?" I said, clipped and holding back the necessary reaction to want to gag.

Alcohol is evil.

He just chewed his lip and nodded, not saying anything else as I opened his door and swiftly took my leave. I'd stepped one foot out into the hall only to be greeted by Andrews, one of the other Marine actors.

"Oh. Wow. I uh… sorry boss. I'm interrupting something?" he asked, a cocky smile on his annoying as fuck face.

"No, far from it. I was just talking with Eric. We'd had a few drinks at the bar in town; you guys should have come down," I lied.

"Oh, sure. I think I heard one of the guys mentioning it. Well, um, have a good rest of the night?" he said awkwardly as we both passed each other.

Great. I knew it would be around set in the morning like wildfire that Eric and I were fucking. Even if in reality, fucking was the last thing he and I were doing. Unless you counted fucking with each other's heads. Though I don't think you would. I didn't.

Ugh. I just wanted to die. That's how I felt. Horrible and death bound and maybe that's what I deserved.

**EPOV:**

The last week of production was a shambles. I mean, we got all the shots we needed, and the backers were still very pleased with our work; the network was thrilled and our bosses' boss was also saying good things. But that wasn't the main problem. Sookie was my main problem. Everyone's problem, really. The pressure of the production had gotten to her and she'd been in constant bitch mode most of the last week. Till the last day, when Lafayette had gotten over his sickness and they'd spent most of the day's shooting catching up on his exterior shots, with and without me. She was smiling; she was relieved. She was still the bitch that rejected me though, and I reserved the right to still be angry about that.

It stung. It stung more than it should have, if I'm honest. If I had been used to women rejecting me, it might have been easier to deal with, but as cocky as it sounds, I wasn't. And I certainly wasn't used to feeling more for a woman initially than she felt for me. I was the one in charge, I was the one who held all the cards. Except she had the cards and she'd shuffled them. In fact, she'd done everything but throw the deck out completely. That night was a hard reality to face. She had her rules and drunk or not, she was sticking to them. And as much as I wanted to lure her back to that big comfy bed and persuade her to break that rule, I knew I couldn't. Sookie wasn't like the other women I'd found myself sexually attracted to. First off, she was smarter than me—and that was terrifying in itself—but she was also hotter than me. And if I was honest, far more talented. It wasn't me blowing smoke up her ass because I'd never told her that I'd thought any of those things. But they were true. She had more to give than I did and that shocked me too.

Our final night in Africa consisted of a cast and crew dinner. Sookie treated all the local staff members and their spouses to gifts for spa days, and various vouchers for things that they all seemed to appreciate. For the cast she'd done the same, but for things back in LA. She thanked everyone, apologized profusely for her crazy ass behavior and just for good measure thanked them again. She and I hadn't spoken outside of her giving me direction on set since the night of the epic rejection. Bruised ego and the inability to quit meant that I did what I could, which wasn't to speak.

She was clearly frustrated by it, but I didn't really care one way or another. Our production was at an end for three weeks, after which we'd shoot interiors in LA for two weeks, then, that was it. We were done. We'd never have to see each other again. I'd almost hoped that that was the truth.

Not a word was spoken between us until it was necessary. Hoyt wanted to sit with Jessica on the plane ride back. Of course he did. They'd barely left each other's side for days, so of course they'd want to be disgustingly cute together on a plane. I rolled my eyes and agreed. Leaving me next to Sookie for the next twenty hours.

Oh, awesome.

I read, I wrote, I listened to my iPod a lot. I avoided eye contact with her a lot too, though I wasn't above sneaking the odd glance here and there to see if she was doing the same. I never caught her if she was.

About three hours in, I gave up, popped one very large sleeping pill and pulled down my chair into the bed as it was designed.

We were California bound and I for one couldn't wait to get away from all things Stackhouse, clear my head and just be with everything that was familiar again.

I'd worry that I was living in a hotel room, with no place to really call 'home' when I woke up.

**SPOV:**

The last few days shooting on location were, as expected, a total nightmare. Somehow we all survived to tell the tale, sanity a little less intact than before, but we were all in one piece. Some of us a little thinner, some of us a little in love, and some of us a little in hell. Jessica asked if it was cool with me if Eric and she switched seats, so that she and Hoyt could be together on the flight. I wasn't going to deny her. Since production was wrapped, I'd booked them both a spa weekend in Napa just like everyone else. I had hated myself for being so sharp with her that night since it wasn't her fault that I was a raging loon. So of course, I agreed, but the awkwardness between Eric and me was almost smothering. He was still refusing to talk to me. And other than excuse me, and thank you, I hadn't said anything to him either. Apparently, we were both as stubborn as mules in a field, as Jessica would say.

For hours we both focused on everything else but each other, or that buzzing tension that I swear I could almost feel like a force field between us. He went to sleep a few hours in and to be honest, with the sheer physical and mental exhaustion that I'd experienced in the previous few weeks, I wasn't that far behind him. Twice I'd slept with him, and twice neither of us got that release we'd both been desperately craving, and why? Well, apparently I just liked to make things difficult on myself, that's why. Never could I just choose the easy option, no. I had to make things horrifically bad before I decided that hey, maybe enough was enough and maybe just gliding through life on my father's fame, or his money, or hell, even my money would be enough. But no. Or maybe marrying Alcide like he wanted, but again, no. Too easy, too safe, too loving. I knew he'd love me all my life if I were to be his wife, the mother of his children, safe, warm, secure. But did I choose that option? No. because, well I'm beginning to think I'm an idiot, all things considered.

I woke up just as the flight attendant was serving dinner, which meant we were about four hours from landing. I'd slept a long time.

I shook myself awake noting that Eric was already eating. So, I attempted to talk.

"Is the food better than it was on the way here?"

"It's airplane food. It's never good, but it does what it's meant to," he said not looking up from his plate.

"I guess… can you pass me that napkin, please?" I asked since he had six on his side. He passed it to me without looking at me. And I'd had about enough.

"This is ridiculous. You know that, right?"

"What's that, the chicken?"

"You know what I'm talking about…"

He scoffed but carried on eating.

"Eric, I'm sorry if I bruised your over inflated ego or whatever but I'm your boss for fuck's sake. I mean, what kind of message would that send? You know as well as I do what a mistake—" I whispered harshly.

"Fine, Sookie. Fine. It would have been a mistake. Is that what you want to hear? Let's move on!" he snapped.

"Yes, fine let's move on. I'd like us to at least be civil to each other. Before that night you and I were … I don't know, it felt like we were becoming friends."

"No," he said, chewing.

_"No?"_

"No, we weren't friends. I don't think we've been 'friends' since I was thirteen-years-old. You were my boss. I didn't want to fuck up this opportunity so I was nice to you. That's all."

It stung I had to admit, but I guess this was just his way of protecting himself. I'd bruised his ego, he was trying to do the same. An eye for an eye and all that.

"I see."

"Mmm... So now that you're not my boss, for the next three weeks at least, I don't have to give a shit what you think or what you do. It's very freeing."

Asshole.

"I'm sure it is," I said stabbing the shit out of my chicken. "And you know since you won't be working for almost a whole month, feel free to go be with your girlfriend. You know. the one you conveniently forgot about the other night."

He just smirked looking at me finally.

"Yeah, you know I think I just might. I think that's exactly what I'll do, because at least she's the one person that I know actually wants me, and won't be a neurotic little tease like some people I know."

"Oh, my fucking God! You are a child you know that? An actual overgrown child. Tease? Are you shitting me? So what, I rejected you. That's life Eric. And, you have a girlfriend. How is that not an issue here? I mean, do you usually just go around fucking around on your girlfriends? Because if so, you have more issues than even I do. That's shitty, even if she is a completely vapid life-size Barbie doll. No one deserves that."

"It's funny how you can insult and defend her all at once."

"Well, I'm a woman, we multitask. What I can say?"

"Yeah, you managed to be a bitch and a messed up tease all at once, too. It's quite an accomplishment."

"Well, you know you can do it, too. I mean, you've been managing just fine all these years to be a fuck up and a self-pitying asshole all at once so there might be hope for your multitasking skills yet," I bitched back. If he could hit below the belt, so could I.

The next three hours and twenty-nine minutes were the longest of my life. When we finally touched down, I sighed to myself packing away my books into my carry on case, before shoving past Eric in an attempt to get as far away from his condescending ass as possible. It wasn't to be though, since we met again at baggage claim, Hoyt and Jessica in tow.

"Jess, you ready?"

We walked out and were met, rather shockingly by a wall of flashing cameras.

What the actual fuck?

"Miss Stackhouse?" I heard through all the yelling. "Andre. Pam sent me to pick you and your assistant up. This way please," he said as six guys with cameras continued to follow all four of us to the parking area. The questions were insane.

"Are you and Eric sleeping together?" " Are you back to acting now, is it because of Eric?" "Eric did you cheat on Sandy? We've seen her crying…"

"Sweet Jesus," I said as I grabbed Jessica's hand and yanked her along with me.

"Was the production in trouble, Sookie?"

"Are you two dating now? The Internet is buzzing. Everyone wants it guys!"

By the time we got into the blacked out SUV, Eric and Hoyt had gotten into the one in front.

"What the fuck was that?" I asked the driver, Andre.

"You haven't seen the blogs, then?"

"No, I've been on a plane for the last day. What's going on."

"I work for Pam, Sookie. I'm one of her assistants. It's nice to finally meet you," he said, smiling as we took off out of the airport and onto the road.

"Sorry, nice to meet you, too. Now, please?"

"There were photos of you and Eric, leaked to the web last night. That's what they're talking about."

"From set?" I knew about those. How was that a big deal?

"No, it looks like it was in a public street. It's why we can't get them taken down."

"What kind of photos?" Jessica asked, finally regaining some of her color. Poor girl was stunned.

"Um, it… I believe you and Mr. Northman were in a rather _compromising_ position..." he said.

I was baffled and Jessica just blushed.

"How compromising?" I asked.

"They were grainy, it was dark and the lighting was bad but it's obvious it's him, not so obvious it's you. But what is obvious is the passionate kissing that was going on between Mr. Northman and his mystery girl, since his girlfriend was seen leaving the airport departing for LAX just hours before… It's been all over the entertainment news channels, too. It's quite the scandal, Ms Stackhouse."

Well, fuck.

Not _exactly _the quite peaceful homecoming I'd hoped for then?

**A/N: *Evil laugh I haz one* Muhahaha. Sorry for the angst… well that's a lie I'm really not sorry, hehe. Anyways hit the little button if you want, let me know what you're thinking! Back at work today so life resumes again and the updates might slow down, but then again, given enough caffeine…. Who knows! Xoxo **


	9. Chapter 9

**EPOV:**

Getting through the airport was a circus, to say the least. I had no idea how they'd known we were on that flight or when we were arriving, but there they were shouting embarrassing questions left and right. It was mortifying. It was always mortifying when I was in public and it happened like that. I hated being a sceptical. On screen, sure I'd be willing to do and say anything, but not when I was just being me. It was too awkward. They seemed to think they had a right—just because the law was technically on their side—to walk up with a camera, ask you invading personal questions for other people's so called 'entertainment' and sell you out for thousands of dollars at a time. I knew there were deals made; this town lived and breathed on shady deals. Bill had tried to set it up a number of times to catch me a certain place, or with certain people to get buzz surrounding my name again. I never agreed to it since I hated the idea of selling out like that. But, just because I didn't agree to it doesn't mean, and didn't mean, the people closest to me shared my thoughts on the matter.

I exhaled when we finally reached the car—our driver being a friend of mine who I used to share a house with, before he decided that getting married and making babies was the way he wanted to go with his life. Godric and I had known each other since we were little kids. He was from Denmark originally, but moved to Sweden when he was eight. We'd met at school before I fell into the whole acting thing. He'd applied to university in Boston, and had been here ever since.

"What did you do?" he asked me, without even saying hello first.

"What?"

"Or should I say who did you do? Dude, it's all over the media right now. You and some blonde chick—who isn't your departing on a jet plane girlfriend, by the way—making out up against some wall somewhere in Africa."

Oh, shit. Not good, not good at all.

I told Hoyt to find the pictures on his phone, and while he was doing that I made Godric tell me everything he knew. Apparently, someone had taken snaps of Sookie and I on a cell phone and shopped them to an American photo agency. Even though they were—as I could finally see—just yellow toned and grainy, you could tell it was me, but Sookie was mostly covered by me. But still, we knew it was me, that's for sure. And if we did, they did; and if they did, Sandy did; and if Sandy did… it explains why the paps have seen her 'crying.' I'm guessing there was a shopping trip with the stylist before she shed those magical heartbroken tears.

"Jesus," I said, frustrated more than anything else as I hit two on my speed dial. Bill answered on the third ring.

"What the fuck? Why didn't you pull these?"

"Why would I pull them? This is the most press you've gotten in years! Do you know how many offers are coming in for you right now?"

"For what exactly?"

"Two offers of endorsement deals for aftershave and three movie ideas—two with scripts being sent to your P.O. Box as we speak."

"What kind of movies exactly, Bill."

"I don't know. One might be a rom-com and the other… is a sci-fi thriller set in outer space."

He had to be kidding.

"Well, just like the other nine hundred rom-coms that I've been offered in the last three years, it will also be a 'no' and are you kidding me with the second pitch? Really, Bill. This isn't what I want. I have a lot of thinking to do but right now, damage control this please. Do not fan the fire."

"You sure? It's getting a lot of attention."

"Yeah, and the fact that you think this is a good thing is one of the reasons I'm considering firing you. Don't make this worse than it is."

I hung up and let my head fall back against the headrest. I was jetlagged and fucked. I had a lot to do in the next three weeks. It was time to attempt to become that grownup I had been avoiding for a long time. I needed to get my shit together.

First on that list was moving out of the overpriced hotel and into a house of some sort. I needed something central, so my love of the beach was probably off the cards for now.

I'd left Hoyt with a list of specifications and some real-estate people that I knew. I'd want something to rent with an option to buy, just in case I changed my mind.

For two days I didn't do much else other than sleep, eat and avoid any and all forms of the Internet. I didn't even check my email. It was times like these that I enjoyed living in the hotel. I didn't have to leave the villa for anything, not even food. I knew it was a nomadic existence—a rather expensive, ridiculous nomadic existence—but one all the same.

My father had been the source of much debate when it came to my life choices, especially of late. He had opted to move back to Sweden when he and my mother divorced. My mother on the other hand, had decided that the New York way of living suited her to a tee. Since she'd met and married one of the wall street terrorists, who as far as I was concerned practically bathed in money. She was happy in her high-rise penthouse, and my father was happy in his cottage on Stor Sjo Lake. Their lives could not be more different now, and honestly though I was sure of the two, my father was the most satisfied with his life—his new wife and baby daughter. My sister Lena would be about a year old now, and I still haven't seen her in person. I felt horrible about that fact. She only knew her big brother via web chats and photos.

I'd have to fix that too, and soon. The realization that Sookie was right was like a swift kick in the balls. I had ignored how much of a shambles my life had become, I'd ignored it when it all cracked and now it was like a house falling down around me. I'd grown distant from my family, I'd grown distant from my real friends, and she was right, my life was a clusterfuck.

**SPOV:**

The first few days after I got back, I was more than a little intimidated I have to admit. I didn't want to leave the house because I knew there were guys with cameras outside waiting to pounce on me like a hunter in the wild. It really shook me up if I was being honest. It was a type of invasion of privacy that I hadn't been at all prepared for.

With my father's fame, it had all been so different. He was of a different generation of actors, he was a quiet man, kept to himself when he wasn't on set or promoting his work. Two things he hadn't done since I had quit acting. He and my mother divorced not long after I quit. She was a theatre actress, and he was the big Hollywood movie star. She was the carefree bohemian, LSD lovin', hemp skirt wearing hippy, and my father was the responsible one, the one that was my actual parent. So when I quit, I guess he did too in a sense. He wanted to give his only child a normal life, and he did, and he did it extremely well. He didn't quit working completely, however. He'd written various screenplays over the years and sold them off—two of which became huge Oscar winners for those who had bought them. But he had turned down countless productions that were offered, too. I felt bad for him, but he had assured me that it had been time. He didn't want to 'outwear his welcome' as he'd put it. One of the first things I did when I got back home to LA was to call him. We'd call each other every night when I wasn't working or in school late. It was such a relieving comfort just to hear his voice.

"And it was horrible?" he asked as I laid down.

"I just think that maybe you were right, maybe I should have given the directorial rights to someone else. It was too much for my first project daddy. I was a wreck."

"But the dailies you sent me looked amazing, Sookie. I told you that, and I know what I said at first, but I am glad you did it. You followed your dream and you achieved it, dear girl."

"It's not over yet."

"Ah yes. Well, I see you and Mr. Northman have been getting … closer."

"Daddy!"

"What? Sweetheart, I told you I'm hip and with it. We can even Skype now if you'd like."

"You got a web cam? And please don't say hip, unless it's followed by the word replacement."

"Yes! Maria set it up for me. I've been talking to friends of mine in Los Angeles and everything, and might I add, Max Anders looks old now. It was shocking."

Max was head of one of the biggest production studios in the business. He and my father had know each other a long time.

"That's because he _is_ an old, old man."

"Less of the old man, my yoga keeps me young."

Oh dear God. It had been an unforgettable morning when I was sixteen, walking to my living room to find my father, his housekeeper Maria and her daughter Amelia all standing on their heads. It was the beginning of my fathers obsession with his health. Not that I was complaining that he ditched the three bottles of wine a night habit, but it was still funny to think about my dad 'imagining himself as tree' and stuff.

I giggled.

"How are you now?" he asked.

"Sleepy. I miss you," I said mid yawn.

"How soon can you come home for a visit then? You know you always feel better after you've been here for a few weeks."

"True. I guess I could fly out after we wrap completely. After that I'm pretty much done with it until we have to promote, assuming we get picked up of course."

"Of course. Well, I think you need to come see your old man. And Maria misses you."

Maria had been our housekeeper since we'd moved to France. Though, if you asked me, she loved my dad more than her job. I often wondered if they'd ever get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize it.

"I miss her, too. How is she?"

"She's well. She's missing Amelia, too. It seems America is destined to steal our daughters."

Amelia was now a full-fledged lawyer working out of Boston, and the winner in our current poke war on Facebook.

"Sookie, how do you feel about the acting thing again now that you've dipped your toes in the waters after so long?"

Ah, the million dollar question.

"I missed it," I admitted, "But I want this to be fun. It should have always been fun first and foremost. I mean, it's disgustingly hard work at times, but I want fun and joy to be my motivation."

"What, not money or reputation?" he faked a gasp.

"No. I mean, I don't want a reputation as a shitty actress or anything, but realistically as long as I do my best and strive to be better, what they think of me… can't matter, right?"

"Just realize that it's a job. It's an art form yes, but at the end of the day it's a job and everyone does their job so that you can do yours. It would be the same if you were the key grip or the janitor. You're replaceable, but once you have a job just work hard at it."

I nodded.

"We'll see if I get any audition offers, and if not, then it's not the end of the world, I guess."

"Good. Now tell me all about this Eric Northman and why you were kissing him when he has a girlfriend?"

"Oh… um… How'd you know it was me? Most people only suspect; they can't really tell."

"Please! I'd know you anywhere, even blurry and orange and with lips attached to a Swede." He laughed. "It's not like you to cheat or be an accomplice to cheating Sookie."

"I wasn't cheating. Alcide and I are over daddy." Maybe I should have opened with that news? Hm. The fact that I didn't just pointed out to me just what a non-priority my relationship was. I found myself saddened by that revelation.

"I see, and is Eric the reason why?"

"What? Oh, God no. Dad he and I were just … Okay, Alcide and I we were just growing apart for a long time and neither of us wanted to be the one to break it off… Well, okay that's a lie. I knew he wanted to marry me but dad, you know me, I don't know if marriage is something I'm built for."

I heard him sigh before he began, "I should have provided you with better examples of relationships growing up. It's my fault that you fear commitment."

"Daddy, no, it's not your fault. Not at all!"

"There are studies, daughter!"

"Yes, dad I'm sure there are many studies on how parents ultimately screw up their kids, and then their kids screw up their kids, and it's the circle of blah, blah, blah. Point is, I'm fine just how I am and that's because of you. Just because the idea of getting married and having kids isn't my thing doesn't mean it's wrong. Hell, I'm only twenty-three. I have almost twenty years before I have to start freaking out about kids."

"I'm not saying go get pregnant tomorrow sweetheart, but family is important."

"I know that, but look at Maria, she's family and she's not even blood. Does that mean we love her any less? No. So family comes in all shapes and sizes, and it's not something I'm worried about right now."

"Okay, okay I'll give up for now. You still haven't explained the Eric thing."

"Do you really want me to?"

"As long as you know what you're doing, that's all."

I didn't know what I was doing. Far from it, really.

"It's fine, dad. There's nothing going on between us and that's just how it has to be."

"Because of his girlfriend?"

"Partly, but even if she wasn't part of the picture, Eric and I … we're like oil and vinegar."

"What? Stick you both in a pan and you have a great base for cooking meat?"

"Daddy…" I whined.

"Fine, fine. Look, all I remember of Eric Northman was that funny, playful, candy filled thirteen-year-old boy. I don't know him as a man, but really we're not all that different on the inside."

"Are you saying every man is basically a thirteen-year-old boy?"

"Basically, yes," he laughed. "Just relax darling. Whatever will happen, will happen."

"You're starting to sound like mom."

He scoffed. "Oh, never ever. I'm not that far gone yet."

That was the thing with my parents, they fought like cats and dogs when they were married, but now that they weren't, they'd become the weirdest couple of friends that I'd ever seen. I enjoyed them more relaxed with one another, though. Before when the one was trying to squeeze the other into their lifestyle when it clearly wasn't a fit, there was nothing but explosives left and right, and not the fun kind either.

I'd agreed to go to Paris to see my Dad in three weeks from our phone call. By then the project would be wrapped completely and my stress would be on hold until we got picked up. And if we didn't? Well, there was a pint of ice cream waiting in my freezer along with a very large bottle of vodka in the fridge. I'd get fat and drunk and wallow quite happily in my failure if it should happen that way.

I decided, however, that three days of being a hostage in my new home wasn't how I was going to let things roll. So Jessica and I were going shopping, and to get our hair done. To do that, we had to leave the house. According to Pam, the 'scandal' was still running on all the gossip sites and what have you. Eric hadn't commented, and shockingly neither had Sandy. That didn't stop them from waiting for me to say something and everyday Jess would come over, they'd be there. We'd decided that Jessica would move into the pool house. She was currently sharing a two bedroom apartment with three other girls, so having a whole house—albeit a pool house—all to herself was something she jumped at. That, and when I didn't need her to work for me, it gave her privacy and apparently Hoyt, too. As soon as we got out of the car to go wander around the shops, the paparazzi were right next to us. I was anxious and it probably showed, but I decided that I couldn't make them leave me alone, so like any bad situation, I attempted to make the best of it.

"Hi, what's your name?" I asked the heavier one in the black t-shirt.

"You don't want to know my name. Having a good day so far, Sookie?" he asked.

"I do. I mean, you're both following me and I don't know who you are, so gimme a name and I might give you an answer," I said.

Jessica laughed while we tried not to trip over them was they walked backwards in front of us.

"Chris and that's Dave."

"Hi Chris and Dave. Now, I know those cameras have really long lenses, so do you really need to be this close to us?" I said, and shockingly he stood back a few feet. Not by much and he was still very much a nuisance, but it was an improvement from being up in our faces so close.

"Thank you for trying," I rolled my eyes.

"So what's the deal with you and Eric Northman?" he asked, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes underneath my sunglasses.

"No deal at all. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, there's just these rumors…"

"And you believe everything you hear, sweetie?" I pulled out the sweetie card, and I couldn't even believe my own ears. I was treating this grown man like he was a toddler. It dawned on me that perhaps that's how Pam was handling me, too. I'd need to have a word with her about that.

"Well, no," he answered.

"Smart. Keep not believing, because most of what you hear, especially in this town, is total B.S."

We entered Sephora were we knew they couldn't follow.

"God, Sookie that's so crazy. Does it make you feel weird?"

"Two dudes we don't know are following us with video cameras, what do you think?" I said offering her a lip-gloss tester.

"I know, but it wasn't like this for you before, right?"

"No. I was a little kid then, and besides the whole paparazzi-celebrity obsession thing didn't blow up till the early 2000s anyways. I missed the boom," I smiled.

"Can you deal with it now?"

I shrugged.

"It's not like I have much choice right now. I mean, they do what they do and I do what I do. I don't _have_ to be nice to them but I have a feeling that these guys are just guys—bored and out to make a buck. A little like a person working at McDonalds—if at McDonalds, you got up to thirty five grand for a day's work. But either way, they're just people and I won't be rude to them unless they're rude to me. No sense in having angry stalkers when you could have nice ones," I rationalized, while blowing a hefty chunk of change on beauty products before treating Jessica to a few things she's never tried before.

I got a call while we were seated at a café on Wilshire. It was Eric. At first, I was hesitant to even answer it, but I didn't want to be rude completely considering I did have to see him again, and there was no use in continuing the plane ride from hell. And maybe he thought so too, since was calling.

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's Eric."

_Duh?_

"Hi. What can I do for you?"

"Well, ordering me two coffees and some red velvet cake would be good."

"Excuse me?" But before he could answer I felt a tap on my shoulder. Squinting as I looked around caught by the sun, was a very tall Eric and an equally as tall, Hoyt. Hoyt went straight for Jessica after a quick 'hey.' Eric on the other hand pulled up a chair next to me.

"Um, we just ordered lunch so…"

Go away.

"Great, we were just about to do the same. I've never eaten here before. It was Hoyt's idea," he said looking over the menu.

Hoyt, who I'm sure was texting Jessica all morning and about ten seconds before they arrived. She and I would have to have a few words about telling me these things.

"Oh. Um, well, I mean it… You couldn't say two civil words to me on that plane. Why would you want to have lunch with us?"

" Well, I want to have lunch. Lady and The Tramp over here can't seem to stop talking to each other and his texting was starting to piss me off. So by doing this, I kill two birds with one stone. I eat and he stops the beeping noises and might actually pay attention when I talk to him," he said, glancing at them, but they were deep in conversation. "Or, maybe not," he sighed. "What's good here?"

"I don't know what you're into, but I'm having the rack of lamb."

"For lunch?" he asked his brows knitted together.

"Yes... Do you have an issue with that?"

"What? No! No, not at all! I just…"

"What?" I challenged him. If he called me fat or big boned, I didn't care if there were paparazzi somewhere around—though I couldn't see them from where we were—I would kick his ass.

"I'm just not used to girls you know…"

"Eating solid foods? Yeah, it must suck for you…" I rolled my eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I think it's great that you actually eat and stay so hot."

I'd be ignoring the hot comment in favor of still hating him. Even if it did boost my stupid pride.

"Just pick something so we can order already. Jess?" I said and she and Hoyt finally sat a reasonable distance apart. Honestly, I was kind of hoping they'd just have sex so that I wouldn't have to listen to her ramble on and on and on about how romantic and amazing he was. If she was preoccupied with sex then maybe we could move on. Though knowing my luck, I'd probably have to listen to every detail of their sex lives, too. That, I was not looking forward to.

Everyone ordered and the four of us made chit chat before we tucked into our food. Blackberries were ignored, and talking ceased. Food was the weapon of choice.

"I'm sorry about the airport. And I'm sorry about the pictures," Eric said out of the blue.

I really just didn't want to talk about that—not now and possibly not ever.

"Don't worry about it. It's not like you planned it…. You _didn't, _right?"

"Of course not."

"Did _she?" _I referred to Sandy.

"I don't think so. She said she knew nothing about it, and was pretty pissed at me for making out with another girl."

"Does she know it was me?"

There was no use pretending with our assistants. They knew everything about our lives practically at this point anyway.

"No, I just said it was some girl."

"Thanks."

"It's not like that, I just—"

"I get it, it's fine. The way I see it, it's a blip on the radar, and we should move on."

"You tend to move on from things pretty fast, Sookie," Eric commented as he chewed his lamb. "I mean, with us, it was dismissed and forgotten about in a heartbeat, and apparently with Alcide, too."

"You don't know what you're talking about," I said sipping my drink.

"I think I do. You compartmentalize—a lot, from the looks of things."

"You're kidding right? We're actors, it's what we do, everyday."

"In a role, sure. But not in real life. It's mentally exhausting."

"Well, maybe for the mentally_ weak _it is, but I'm fine, thank you very much."

He just smirked and nodded. And apparently the subject was closed. I hated that he could wind my temper up so easily. Whatever it was about it, when I was around him I had this urge to do physical harm to things, mostly him and his stupid pretty face and his stupid attractive torso.

Hoyt and Jessica were busy making plans for their date that night. Apparently bowling was their choice.

"You guys can come if you'd like?" she offered to Eric and I, and we looked at each other before we both answered with a hearty, "No."

"Oh hey guys, I mean, I know you two are all like mad at each other and radiating sexual tension an' all," Hoyt began, "But you really should try and get over your issues…"

"Why?" Eric asked him sharply.

"Well, I don't know about you Eric but I really like to be civil and pleasant with my next door neighbors. I mean, you never know when you might need to knock on their door—"

"I'm sorry, _what?" _Eric said to him again.

"Oh right, I forgot to tell you, the house you just signed off on? It's right next door... to Sookie's."

Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me!

**A/N: Hi all! Few days break this time, work took over and wore me out, but here we have nine! Hope you enjoyed! Let me know! Reviews are love! xox**


	10. Chapter 10

**SPOV:**

I was livid, to say the least, and by the look on Eric's face, he wasn't far behind me.

"Jessica, come with me to the ladies room please," I said slamming down my napkin and walking to the back of the café.

Once we got inside, I stood there with my hands on my hips.

"I'm so, so, so sorry, Sookie. It wasn't planned. Really, I promise!"

"Yeah right!"

"No. I mean it! What happened was Hoyt mentioned to me that Eric was looking for a place, and well, I mentioned that the big house next to yours was available. And I guess they were listing houses together to look at… and Eric really liked the one next door. Hoyt didn't tell him you lived there because he just seemed to fall in love with the house, and really, there are big gates … you might never even have to see him!"

"Jessica that's SO not the freakin' point! They show up here with us, after those guys who … by the way might still be following us, and they are asking about him and I! Then, he moves into a house next door to me? That's very suspect, don't you think?"

"I thought you didn't care what they thought about you? And you said nothing is going on so what should it matter?"

"I don't… I don't _usually, _but this is just… so weird, Jessica! We aren't going to be friends, Eric and I. There's too much harshness there."

"I see it as sexual tension." She smiled.

"You aren't funny," I dead panned. "Ugh." I ran my hands through my hair pulling it into a ponytail.

I shook myself. Maybe I was just overreacting?

"I can be civil, but that's it, Jessica. No more sneak attacks like this. If this is your idea of match making, it stops, _now!"_

She nodded a 'yes' before I went into fix my lipstick.

"I'm sorry if it's freaked you out, Sookie," she said washing her hands.

"It did, but I mean if you guys say he wasn't manipulated into taking the house, then I believe you. And really you're right, we might never even see each other, and after the wrap party we're done working together…" I waved my hand in dismal.

"Until you have to promote it with him."

"That's even if we get the green light, which we still might not. In this economy …"

"Sookie, you know the work is good, we all know the work is good, and honestly whatever magical hate you and Eric have for each other? It's explosive on screen. Everyone was floored by how amazing you two acted off the other. The whole set was talking about it, so you know the studios will be, too."

"I guess… Can we just go?"

"Um, well, Hoyt wants to maybe just hangout for a little while. So, I was thinking if you're not busy and don't need me—"

Her big in love puppy dog eyes won me over. "It's fine. Go ahead."

"But if you need me for anything I can totally stay. I mean it. I don't want to be slacking on the job."

"Today was your day off anyway, remember?"

"Oh, right… huh. Well, okay then. Now I don't feel so bad about ditching you," she laughed.

"Don't. I'm just going to go home and chill out, maybe cook later, maybe not. I have a thousand emails to catch up on and I haven't been on Twitter in days."

I'd been avoiding it for fear of hate mail in all honesty, but, it was time to face the music.

"Shouldn't I be doing that for you? The email, I mean?"

"You're not taking my Blackberry away from me!" I laughed as we made our way back outside. As we did, Hoyt and Eric were in deep discussion, and I was right, Eric looked about as happy as I had, as in, not very much at all.

"Um, we're just… well, I'm just going to go. Hoyt, it was great seeing you again," I said as he stood up to kiss my cheek like a sweetheart. "Take care of Jessica, please. Feed her; she never eats." I laughed since she'd had all of two bites of her sandwich because she was so enthralled with her new boy.

"Eric." I nodded. Thankfully he just stood up, making no motion to copy Hoyt's goodbye, which I thought to be a good thing.

"Yeah, I think I'll head off too. I mean, if the two love birds," He looked at the couple, "Are just going to be heart-eyed at each other all day long, I can find better things to do with my time." Hoyt just shrugged as Eric gave him the car keys. He attempted to argue with me over the bill—they all did—but I told the love birds to scram and Eric and I quietly argued it out.

"Eric, really give it up and let me pay."

"Oops, sorry... can't."

"And why not? Some wounded male pride thing?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "No, smartass. I gave the waitress my card while you were … I'm assuming, bitching out your assistant."

_Sneaky._

"Fine. I'll just leave her, her biggest tip of the day," I said plonking down the cash that covered the cost of the four lunches. I'd never been a waitress—I'd never had to be—but I could imagine how much it sucked, especially in this town where "asshole" was as common as "blonde."

"I bet she'll love you next time you come in."

I smiled, smugly.

"Hmmm, well, most people do. I'll be seeing you, Eric," I said slinging my purse strap across my body.

We both left the side of the restaurant at the same time—he went left and I went right—and wouldn't you know it, there were the paparazzi guys again. Lurking and popping up out of nowhere like ninjas, obese ninjas, but still just as deadly, since I almost had a heart attack.

"Jesus, you people just _appear!" _I said.

"Sorry if we scared you, Sookie. How was lunch with Eric?"

Ah, so they did see us.

"Accidental, that's how it was."

"Aw come on, just admit you two are dating."

"But that would be a lie," I smiled making my way to my car. "A really big lie as I'm not dating anyone."

"What? Why? You're hot."

I just laughed as I reached my shiny red rental car.

"Have a good day, guys. Pick someone else to follow now, okay?" I asked, hopeful if nothing else.

I rounded the corner, losing them finally. I exhaled a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding. I was just about to turn up my radio for a good ole sing along, when I spotted Eric walking.

I pulled up along side him and slowed down on the empty side road. "Why are you walking?"

"I gave Hoyt my car, remember? It's fine. The hotel isn't that far from here."

"Need a ride?"

"Not to the hotel, but do you want to see my new house?" he asked, a hopeful smile on his ridiculously pretty face. Even under sunglasses and day old scruff, he was still a disgustingly adorable looking man. It's just a pity he didn't have an attitude to match it when it came to me. Or, that I didn't have an Eric button he seemed to push by doing the least little thing resulting in my anger and blood pressure accelerating. I thought about his question for a second as he bounced on his heels outside my car. And if I could be nice to random stalkers with a camera, I could try and be nice to Eric, too.

"Sure, why not." It wasn't to say my day was so jam packed that I couldn't congratulate him on becoming an adult and moving into a proper home.

I still needed my GPS to get me around. What can I say, I had a really shitty sense of direction—both in life and on the road it seemed. Eric slid into the car easily before strapping on his seatbelt.

"I'd ask if you knew the way, but … _yeah," _he grinned.

"I suck at directions, okay? GPS is my best friend."

"And your Blackberry, and your iPod, and your laptop…" he teased.

"So, I have an addiction to technology, so what? Some people drink, some people do drugs, I shop for things to hook me to the Internet."

"You'd like my friend, Godric. He's the same. He has like every tech toy under the sun. It's worrisome," he laughed.

We'd reached the neighborhood in record time. This time, for a change, the GPS lady didn't try to kill me. It was an improvement.

I pulled my car into my own driveway before Eric and I made our way over to his new place. He punched the code into the gate and we walked up the path to his front door. On first impressions it was… well… impressive. Beautifully structured, lots of space, clean lines. It was a beautiful home.

"I really love it. It's a lot more than I'm used to but I think it'll help having Hoyt here and maybe Godric too, I guess. I mean, it's not like I don't like living alone. I do. I did. It's just… well, it's a little lonely sometimes, that's all." I was rather shocked he said it as he showed me around room to room. "The backyard is pretty private but we are close to each other, and the wall isn't that tall. Will that be a problem for you?"

"Me? No, why would it be?"

"I like to hangout outside a lot. I guess I just don't want to piss off my new neighbor," he said with a wink.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. You piss me off all the time _anyway. _Being in your yard shouldn't really make that much of a difference." I smiled at him smugly as we walked down the long hallway. "It's a beautiful place, Eric. I hope you're happy here."

He nodded. "I hope so, too. I need to move all my stuff out of storage in the next few days, so I should be all moved in before we get back to filming."

"Well, 'we' only have two more scenes together, but if I'm honest, I'll be glad when it's in the can."

"I saw how stressed out you were… I didn't want to say anything because—"

"Because the guys are sexist assholes who just assumed I didn't know what I was talking about or what I was doing."

"You proved them wrong, though."

I laughed. "Did I? I don't know."

"Based on dailies alone, I'd definitely say you did. It looks amazing."

"We'll see, I guess," I said lingering by his kitchen door, the awkwardness filling the room like water from a flood. "Anyway, I really should be going. My stuff was delivered from New York while we were gone, and I haven't even started unpacking my stuff from the boxes yet. I have a lot to do," I smiled.

"Yeah, same here. I mean, not unpacking just yet, but all my things are in storage across town. It's a nightmare just thinking about it."

I agreed. It seemed that it was less awkward being around Eric when we were yelling at each other, but talking to each other? Not so easy. At least on my part. And by the way he bounced back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets, it wasn't so easy for him either. I wished him luck again, and made my way next door. I guess first steps were never easy. maybe he and I could take a few towards being civil to each other.

Stranger things had happened.

**EPOV:**

Godric and I pulled up at the old storage facility at one, and by the time we'd got the car packed it was after four. Apparently, I had a lot of stuff that I'd forgotten about. We sorted through a few boxes here and there just to see what I was dealing with. Photos I'd forgotten about, old clothes that would be donated, old scripts, letters, that sort of thing. I realized that while I had a lot of clothes and what would have been considered "swag" packed away in boxes, the little things like photos, well... those boxes were smaller—fewer and far between. I ignored the pang of guilt that washed across me at that realization. I was told early on in my career to choose between family or work. Both ultimately fail. And they were right, my relationship with my parents and sibling was reaching non-existent. They stopped trying when I stopped caring about them, about myself, and about my reputation that had somehow been tarnished before it even got a chance to shine.

"So, have you seen Sandy lately?" he asked me on the way to the new house. I'd been there three days and while it was fully furnished, it felt empty. It was why in recent years I favored hotels. They were always busy if you wanted to people watch, company if it was desired, and that almost anonymous loneliness if it was needed.

"She's called a few times. We've talked, but that's about it. She's on some dress buying mission with her stylist in New York. I have no idea what for…"

"Because she needs more dresses?" he smirked as we pulled up into the Hills.

"Right?"

"Are you two…?"

"I don't know man. It's just … I don't know what I want."

"Yes you do. You want to be taken seriously again. You want people to look at you and get excited about your work again, not about what sunglasses you're wearing or event you're going to show up at."

"True, but it's making that happen. It's not as easy as it sounds. Look at Sandy, for example. She's not a bad person, but she has a shitty reputation, therefore every one and their momma thinks she's a shitty person."

"Including _your_ momma," he laughed.

"True. But I don't know."

"Well, you might want to think fast," he said, and it confused me for a second before I looked up the driveway to see her car, and her standing next to it.

Oh, not good.

I got out of the car as she walked over. "I thought you were in New York."

"I was. I flew in last night. My publicist told me you got this place. It's nice. A little… _small. _But it's nice. They suggested we um, meet up."

"Why?"

"Because, we haven't been seen together in weeks, and after the Internet basically exploded with those photos of you and her," she rolled her eyes at me, "WE need to fix this."

"Is there anything here to fix?"

"Aw, come on. Don't be that way. We have fun, don't we?"

We did sometimes, I guess.

I shrugged.

"Come on, look, let me help you guys unpack or whatever and we'll go to dinner you and I and discuss where we go from here."

"Will you eat?"

She just looked at me.

"I feel weird being the only one eating," I pointed out. Well, I did.

"Fine, I'll have something. I mean, I do eat. I eat _whatever _I want."

"I know." She just doesn't 'want' most things. _Ever._

Thing were good, normal, while we unpacked and sank a few beers. It was when dinner happened that shit went down real fast.

It was bad enough that there had been a car of photographers sitting outside the house when we left, but they followed us to the restaurant to get us in the parking lot and heading inside.

When one of them yelled if we were on a double date with Sookie, I thought I heard him wrong.

Sandy just grabbed my hand and yanked me past them, and I'll admit, I let her do it. We got inside and were seated almost immediately, which at the Ivy, wasn't an easy thing to accomplish at eight p.m. on a Friday.

And that's when his comment made sense. There seated one table over from us, was Sookie. Sookie and another woman—by the looks of things taller than Sookie—possibly a little older, and obviously with a lot authority. It was evident by their "in deep conversation" stance, and the woman gesturing with her hands.

"Is that your little director slut?"

"Sandy…. Seriously? Put the claws away."

"Had I known she was here I'd have picked somewhere else. I mean honestly, they'll just let anyone in here these days. It's ridiculous." She pouted aiming for the wine menu.

I just sighed and opened the dinner menu. I was starving.

"So I'm thinking we should go on vacation, maybe soon, after you wrap this project up. Maybe somewhere hot. I got these amazing new bikinis in New York. One of them is actually from the kids department at Barneys! Can you believe it! I can finally fix back into those babies!"

"You realize that at almost thirty, that's probably not safe? I'm worried about you, Sandy."

"Why? I'm perfectly healthy!"

"Right, except that you're not. And you get like this when you're stressing out. Is it the new movie? Or just us?"

"Both? I don't know. I just, I'm fine, really. I like how I am, I like what size I am, and so do the casting directors."

For rom-coms that tank, and indie movies that have been done over and over. Yeah it seemed like we were two of a kind in the failing career department. But she was determined, I'd give her that.

"Just please be careful, that's all."

"I am careful, and despite what you think I am controlling my calorific intake a lot …better now. It's healthy. I promise." She took my hand and gave it a mild squeeze. I just hoped she was being honest.

We ordered. I ate while she picked at her food.

It was then I kept catching glimpses of Sookie looking at me, then looking away.

"I should probably go say hello." I took a gulp of my beer. "I mean, it would just be rude not to."

She just rolled her eyes. "Fine, well, I'm going to the bathroom."

I took the last gulp of my beer and made my way over to her, as she sat at her table—finally alone.

**SPOV:**

When I left Eric's and let out that breath that I hadn't realized that I was holding, I decided to rip off the bandage and just unpack all my shit that Alcide had sent.

There was everything that we'd accumulated in six years together. Photos, concert stubs, birthday cards from him, anniversary cards, teddy bears. You name any cheesy couple thing and we _probably _did it.

I started to sob—uncontrollable sobs—as I unpacked my boxes and with them the fear that maybe I'd messed up the best thing to ever happen to me. I loved Alcide, I did. I just didn't feel for him like I thought I should feel for the man I was about to marry. But it was still a kind of love. Maybe a "kind of love" was the only love we got? Had I been a fool to not accept him and his needs when I had the chance? I was so confused, so conflicted.

I picked up the phone—maybe when I shouldn't have—after a few glasses of wine that I shouldn't have had either.

"Hi."

"Hey, you," was his reply.

"So, I'm in LA. I'm home, I guess. _Home_. God that still sounds weird to me."

"It does. Did you get—"

"Yeah, my stuff came. Thank you for boxing the rest of it up."

"No worries. It might not be in the best condition. I was drunk when I did it. Or as I referred to it, an entire _Denmark_ full of Dutch courage." I heard him smile. I missed that smile.

"I miss you," I held back a sob.

"Miss you too, kid."

"I don't know how to be without you," I admitted. "It scares me."

"It scares me too, but you weren't happy with where we were going, Sook… I can't change that, since I was probably the reason."

"That's not true. You made me happy, really happy for a long time."

"Just not long enough, huh?" he asked, quietly.

"I am sorry. I'm sorry that I feel this way, I wish I didn't. I wish I wanted the same things you want. It would be so easy if I did."

He sniffed.

"But you don't."

"No. I don't."

"Then that's what it comes down to, that's why we're apart. Because you know I'd marry you tomorrow."

I sniffed too, nodding even though he couldn't see me.

"I think maybe we shouldn't talk, for a little while at least," he said, and it was like he was actually stepping on my heart.

"I know, I just need to know that you don't hate me."

"I don't. I don't hate you for wanting something different than I dom Sookie. Even if that something is someone that's no good for you."

Wait, what?

"What?"

I heard him sigh. "Eric Northman. I mean, it's fine if that's how it is, but you could have told me to my face."

"This again?"

"No, this after I see pictures of the two of you kissing the faces off each other HOURS after we split, then lunching in LA all smiles and happy… then to find out he's bought a house next door? I mean, what the hell am I meant to think?"

"That maybe you're a _smart_ guy who knows how the fucking industry works? That captions don't always equal _truth_? Or maybe to have a smidgen of respect for me?"

"Did you have respect for me, huh? For US? When you were kissing him like that?"

"It was a mistake, okay? I knew that it was as soon as it was over, I just…"

"And the rest of it?"

"He's a friend, that's all. Hell, he's _hardly_ even that."

"Wow, I never thought you'd use such a Hollywood cliché, Sookie."

"It's not when it's actually the truth," I justified. "Look, I need to go, but I don't want the possible last conversation we have to be an angry one."

"Yeah? Well, I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. Sometimes we don't always get what we want Sookie."

"You're being childish."

"Then I'm childish. It hurt me, Sookie."

"I know, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for hurting you at all. It really wasn't what I had planned, believe me."

"I do..." he sighed after a longer pause than necessary, even for him.

"Then why the anger? If you knew that I didn't—"

"Because, either way he gets to be with you. And that kills me."

I closed my eyes, realizing so fully in that moment that I hadn't the slightest clue what I was doing. We hung up with an option to call or email, but each of us knowing that we wouldn't. We couldn't. At least not until the wounds healed a little, or… in his case I guess, until they healed a lot.

I spent the remainder of the week redecorating my new house. Nothing major was needed but a few touches here and there. I put my photos up of family friends, my old dog Ruff who lived in Paris with my dad. All the couple photos, framed or otherwise went into a box—a very pretty purple box, but still a box. Just like I'd hoped to put all those memories inside a pretty purple box, inside my head.

It irritated me to no end to realize that Eric had actually been right about my compartmentalizing. I wanted to call him up or go over and see him JUST so I could yell at him and prove him wrong.

I hated that he did that to me, and so easily. Stupid Swedish button pushing idiot.

I hated wicker furniture, so I found some amazing antique chairs for a steal in West Hollywood, where again I was greeted by the paparazzi. This time a different set from the ones before. These guys were less polite, and more invasive. By the time I got home, I was pissed off at them, at myself and at the whole damn situation. I popped out some wine and decided to vent my feelings in some writing. I was two of the three sheets to the wind when Pam came over, unannounced as always, and without knocking either.

"Six o'clock on a Friday and you're already sloshed, Stackhouse. Are you sure you're still on your little 'anti-Hollywood' attitude? Because I know some epic parties…"

"Go away."

"No, my darling I can't do that. See, we have business to discuss, and I haven't eaten since six a.m. so please indulge me and go upstairs, slap some makeup on and that slinky black DVF number I saw peeking out of that unorganized closet of yours. And with heels; no flats."

"I'm sorry, are you Pam or Rachel Zoe?"

"You want Rachel? I can get you Rachel. God knows you need her."

I gasped.

"You bitch."

"Thank you. Now, scoot." Pam slapped my ass with the script that she had taken to fidgeting with as I was sent upstairs to attempt to get the 'I'm drunk' look off my face and fix myself up pretty for her.

An hour later, I was slightly hungover and more to the point, I was starving. The Ivy. I hated it. It was so pretentious, but it was infamous for celebrity watching. Well, it was before the paparazzi realized that I was me, and that I being me was someone else they needed to throw ridiculous questions at before we got past them. They made me feel dirty.

We got inside, seated far enough out of the way for a little bit of privacy—thank God. Pam started us off with margaritas.

"Are you kidding?"

"What? It's Friday. I've had a stressful day, and if you stop drinking now you'll be hungover by ten, and that's just sad. Besides, I much prefer drunk you. She's less whiney and more awesome."

"You know, that attitude is why so many people in this town fuck themselves over."

"Like your boyfriend?"

"What?"

"Eric."

Ugh, what was it with everyone in my life assuming he and I were fucking, for fuck sake?

"For the last time..."

"I know, blah blah blah, fine whatever. Moving on. Is everything set up for the shoot in two weeks?"

"From what I know, yes. Some of the actors have gone to see family, others are still milling around LA. Either way everyone is ready to go, and I for one am just dying to finish it."

"Too much?"

"Far too much. But I am glad I did it though. It was a dream, and even if it doesn't get picked up..."

She nodded. Just as she did, out of the corner of my eye I spotted them and I groaned internally.

"My my, he doesn't waste time does he? That asshole," Pam murmured.

"We're not together, so what if he's back with her? That's his deal."

"And a shitty deal it is too. Honestly, you'd think if he was going to hook up with someone for attention it would be someone who could, in fact hold one's attention for more than five seconds." She groaned and I had no idea what she was talking about.

We ate our meal, and had a few more drinks since we were going to take a cab home anyway. I didn't think it would matter. Pam's bladder being as tiny as her waist got the better of her, and as soon as it did I saw him make his way over to me.

Being civil. We were just being civil. We were co-workers, that's all it was. Pleasantries at their best.

"Hey," he said, slipping into Pam's seat.

"Hey yourself. Having a nice dinner? I'd ask the same of Sandy, but I think we both know she's about to see it in reverse, don't you?"

"Ouch. Someone took their bitch ass pill this morning."

"Several in fact," I smiled.

"How are you, bitchassness aside?" he asked, and it startled me that he would even ask.

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's what people ask people when they're being nice, right?"

"I don't know, is it?" I smiled. "I'm fine," I answered him, finally. "Settling in okay?"

"Yeah I am, actually. That's the thing. I was thinking of throwing the wrap party at my place. I mean, if that's okay with you? It would serve as a housewarming too, kill two birds and all that."

I just nodded. I couldn't see a reason why not.

"Sure. I guess. I mean, if it's what you want, I think it sounds good. I won't get stuck with the clean up, will I?"

"Director, boss of all? I value my balls too much, thanks." He smiled. "It'll be fun, and the rest of the production will be too, you'll see."

I hoped he was right. Just at that, Pam make her presence known.

"Northman, nice to see you've sobered up," was all she said, as I hid my face in my hands.

"I'm sorry?"

"You don't remember do you? You hit on me, at the HBO after party at the Globes last year. Calling me 'darlin' every five minutes. it wasn't as charming as you suspected it to be, sad to say."

"Pam Ravenscroft, right?"

"The one and only. Move, you're in my seat."

He just laughed but stood up and pulled the chair out for her.

"Forgive me, Lady Pam, please." He gestured and she just rolled her eyes.

"What are you two eye-fucking each other over now? I mean really, we're in public." She scowled and I attempted to hide my blush as Eric let his sit right on his pretty, pretty face.

"We were just talking about the end of production and how well it's going to go and how amazing we'll all be," he smirked, clearly joking.

"Oh, well, in that case. I'm always up for a good round of ass kissing."

"That's not what you told me at the Globes," he quipped as she just glared at him. I hid my giggle behind my cocktail glass.

"Yes, here's to the last days of ever having to work with Eric Northman," Pam said, snidely in my direction.

Jinxing me in her own way, because our first production together wouldn't be our last. No matter what awkward stumbles we'd take in our personal lives together, no matter how hard we'd both attempt to get out of it, we were stuck it seems. Stuck together professionally. The powers that be had a much larger sandbox for Eric and I to play in, as we were about to become part of something much bigger than my little movie, and we'd have to do it all _together._

_A/N: Hi there, hello, greetings etc! How are we? Good I hope, and enjoying this still I hope too :D The muses for this one are flowing slowly, a lot slower than normal for me, it's a little shocking tbh. But I really hope you're liking them/ the story, and I'll do my best to keep the updates fairly regular and not too far between! Thank you all so much for the previous review love and messages, it means A LOT, so keep up that good work! Xox _


	11. Chapter 11

**SPOV:**

Final day of production rolls around and after a week of shooting interiors, I was feeling somewhat calmer about the production here than I had been in Africa. It seemed that wore off on the cast too since we were able to speed through scenes that I had made a lot of room for re-shoots. I did my scenes with Eric—the majority of one flashback we'd spent arguing, then making up. Of course, it was the 'making up' that I had written after a particularly nasty fight with Alcide, and somehow managed to channel that into my work. It felt more than weird attempting the dialogue with Eric as Ryan and myself in the role of Dena. When I had written it, it was never the intention of being in this position. Of course, I managed to schedule the 'making up' scene as the final scene. I bid farewell to the majority of the cast and crew that afternoon. We were all on point to arrive at Eric's place for our 'wrap slash house warming party' that night, but before that, Eric and I had one last scene to shoot together.

The sex scene.

Body makeup was, I could attest to, the most time consuming and slightly embarrassing process I'd gone through in my adult life. The makeup girls seemed to think nothing of it, taking out brushes and sponges and lathering my body in makeup to make 'everything match up' under the lights. Disturbing—that's how it felt to have them poking at me with brushes in places … well… where there just should _never_ be brushes!

Eric and I had spent the majority of the morning going over the scene. We'd been given the proper choreography so that everyone knew where they were meant to be and how logistically it would all work, hopefully ensuring as few takes as possible to get us done and out of there.

Of course, the girlfriend decided that that day would be the one day she would waltz onto set. She wasn't in the slightest bit happy when I had one of the runners inform her that for the final scene it would be a closed set, and that she was more than welcome to wait in his trailer. Eric apologized profusely for her showing up, but I had more important things on my mind than having to worry about upsetting her.

Both he and I walked onto set in our robes, and I'm woman enough to admit that I was shaking a little. I had never done a love scene before. I had been far too young when I quit for that to even be a factor in the parts that I played. Now though? Now was something else all together.

It wasn't that I was ashamed of my body; quite the opposite. I loved my curves and my natural frame for what it was. It was just… I'd never gotten naked and simulated sex in front of people before. It was new, unfamiliar and terrifying.

Thankfully, Eric seemed to pick up on this as he took my shaking hand in his warm one.

"Don't be nervous," he said gently, though it did little to calm my nerves.

"I'm not."

"Riight," he smiled. "Look, clearly this isn't how I imagined seeing you naked for the first time."

I glared, simply and hard in his direction.

"And _believe me _I've imagined…" he smirked, and it earned him a slap on the arm.

"I'm sorry!" he chuckled. "I thought it would help break the tension. Look, we're just people, and really it's not even us right now. It's them. What _they're_ feeling, what _they're_ needing. We know them, we can do this." He was reassuring and convincing, that's for sure.

"I know… I'm just… I'll be fine once we start I think. I just need to wrap my head around this."

He nodded.

"My first sex scene, I was nineteen, she was thirty-five… She knew was she was doing. I had no clue."

"You didn't get wood did you?" I laughed and he just blushed and looked away.

"You didn't! Oh, my _God." _I giggled but I think it made him feel worse. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh… well, I do that's a lie, because it's funny. I'm sorry." I stopped myself as the DP and my AD told me that we were ready.

We knew the scene inside out. This was a flashback, this was them in their lives before everything got swiped away. We were just a normal couple on a normal morning, that's all it was. Except it wasn't. It was a peek at his former life, how he used to be. When he was bright, shiny and new. Not worn down, used and abandoned by his belief system like we see at the start of the movie. It's the polar opposite of his life after her.

I took a deep breath and shed my robe. Eric looked away right away. I was thankful for that. It gave me a second to adjust before he shed his robe and I paid him the same courtesy.

After a few minutes, I realized it was ridiculous to be so worried and began to relax more, and it seems Eric felt the same way.

We ran through the choreography and lines once, then the cameras started rolling, and so did we.

Feeling Eric so close, so very naked was disconcerting at first. But it wasn't me, and it wasn't him. I knew that much. He had this look in his eyes when he became Ryan—so focused and so still, so very un-Eric like in it's nature—and that focus was very much there as we 'made love' to each other on that fake bed, in that fake room surrounded by cameras and sound booms.

It took us four takes, and with each one I found myself falling into a certain kind of comfort zone with Eric that I hadn't felt before. He'd whisper to me between takes, that I was doing amazing and that if I didn't feel comfortable to just tell him. I was thankful for his professionalism and his kindness, even if he felt the need to tell me that I had 'amazing breasts' a time or two before smirking. I may have just squeezed his ass a little harder than we'd agreed in return. I got a raised eyebrow or two each time I did it, causing me to fall into hard giggles. It served the scene well, though. It was relaxed and didn't seem forced at all, which is what I had worried about. Faking an orgasm in front of that many people was a new and interesting experience, I'll say that much.

We wrapped sooner than expected, giving us more than enough time before we'd meet up with everyone at Eric's place for the wrap party. I was beyond relieved; I was beyond elated. It was done, it was in the can, and I hadn't lost my mind … too much… in the process. It felt amazing.

I got showered and dressed before Jessica and I made our way into the parking lot of the set.

"Hey," I heard from across the way. It was a freshly showered Eric getting into his car. Sandy stood at her door, her sunglasses still on, even though it was raining and overcast.

"Hey," Jessica and I responded.

"You'll be there, right?"

I knew he meant the party.

"Of course."

He smiled big and wide. I liked his genuine smile. It was sort of goofy, and adorable all at once.

"Great. Bring booze. I'm having the food catered."

"You know the production swings for that don't you? Just send me the bill."

"No, don't worry about it—"

"No really. Why pay when it's already taken care of? Seriously, just send the bill, okay?"

He shrugged but agreed anyway, as we both got into our respective cars to head home.

"So how was it?" Jessica asked flicking through her Blackberry.

"Scary, at first, but I don't know... he made me feel comfortable."

"Naked comfortable." She blushed.

"Yes, _naked _comfortable. Our bodies are just the same as everyone else's. I don't get the big hoopla about being naked. I really don't."

"It's private. Not everyone feels as confident in their bodies as you do." She blushed again, which led me to ask.

"Jessica, have you and Hoyt been getting … _naked comfortable _at all?"

Her blush grew. Shit, last thing I wanted to do was freak her out.

"I … "

"You don't have to tell me. In fact, tell me to mind my own business if you want. I was just curious."

She turned in her seat. "No... We haven't and I don't think we're ever going to."

"Why?"

"He's got all this experience with girls. His last girlfriend, Summer, well he almost married her and they'd been together a long time… and I don't have any experience. And I think he doesn't want to do it with me."

"Oh, honey, trust me, he wants to do it with you. Believe me, a guy wouldn't stick around for more than a day if he wasn't sure he wanted that with you. But maybe he's just is that nice of a guy. Maybe he's waiting for you to make the first move since it's your choice and all?"

"Oh, no. No, no. I couldn't!"

"You could. I mean, do you want Hoyt to be your first? Do you trust him and love him enough? That's all you need to know right now, the rest will work itself out."

"I do love him. I know it's happened so fast and it's terrifying for both of us that we feel so strongly so soon, but it does feel right when we're together. And he hasn't been pushing it, in fact the opposite. It's like he doesn't want to bring it up in case it scares me or something."

"He probably doesn't want to freak you out or make you think he's pressuring you. That's all. I say if you want him, take him. That's all there is to it. There's no point in crushing over a guy for months if what you really want is for him to take you and fuc—"

"_Sookie!"_

"What? You do, don't you?"

"Maybe." She blushed again. She really was too adorable.

"Then do it! You make the move and hopefully, if he's not a total idiot, he'll get your gist."

I got home to find a rather obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers from my dad, congratulating me for surviving my directorial debut, and a note saying that he loved me and expected some American candy when I came over. My flight was leaving for Paris the next morning at eleven thirty, so after changing into my sweats and unpacking yet more boxes of crap, I packed my bags for my trip. I was excited about seeing my dad, and couldn't wait for the rest and Zen that was sure to follow from being in his company for more than a couple of weeks. Wherever my dad was, was home, and I wanted to feel at home so badly. I didn't feel at home in Los Angeles—not at all. It was just such a weird city. Busy like any other and traffic filled, sure, but it felt different. So different from New York that I often wondered if we were on the same planet, never mind in the same country. LA was everything you'd think it would be. Hot, humid, and as artificial as a Playboy Bunny's breasts.

I spent a little time by my new pool before I showered and found the red dress I'd been saving for a special occasion. The wrap on my first production seemed just about special enough. Pam arrived around nine, champagne in hand moving in for a hug as soon as I opened the door.

"Congratulations!" she smiled, "You survived, I'm proud. And the network is excited Sookie, they're penciling you in for the summer kick off with two of their most popular shows on either side of you. It's guaranteed millions of viewers and from the grins on their faces, the Globe and Emmy people will be thrilled, too."

"Way to jump the gun, Pam. I just want people to like it, that's all." I shook any and all award shows out of my head. That was far too freaky. What if no one liked it? What if they panned us? I popped the bottle and we took our drinks.

"So, how did you handle your first nude scene, Ms. Stackhouse?" she asked, sounding very much like Ryan Seacrest. God help us all.

"It was fine."

"Fine? You're getting naked and freaky with Northman and it was 'fine'?"

"It wasn't us, Pam. It wasn't real."

"Was it awkward?"

"A little, but we got over it."

"Hmmph... I'll bet you did."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Well, it's just you two have been eye-fucking each other for months now. I'm just shocked you haven't fuck-fucked each other yet, that's all."

That Pam, about as subtle as a flying hammer.

"Nice. Besides he's still dating that… woman," I said dismissively with my hands.

"Speaking of, that girl really should get her flu sorted out."

"Flu?"

"Hmm. She spent the entire time I was in that bathroom 'blowing' her nose."

I didn't get it.

"Oh, well maybe she just needs to see a doctor to get rid of it."

"Yeah, Betty Ford could do it."

"_Huh?"_

"Sweetie, she was blowing her nose," she said, slower this time, like that might help.

"Well, I don't know. Offer her a tissue?"

She just rolled her eyes. "God you're dumb. She was blowing coke up her nose."

Oh.

_OH._

"What?"

She nodded.

"No way. Wait… does that mean that Eric…"

"I don't know. I don't think he'd be that stupid, but the boy does like to have a good time."

"Wow, I didn't think she was one of those."

"Eh, the list of who isn't on coke in this town is tiny compared to just about everyone who is." She shrugged like it was no big deal. It was the one thing that I hated in this industry—serious drugs used as a casual diet aid. It sucked, but it also explained so much about so many people.

"I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"Them. I don't get why he's with her."

"He hasn't really been with her that long, and in the time they've been together … well, I don't think either of them are as serious about their 'relationship' as they'd like people to believe. At least I know she's not."

"Why?"

"She fucks around, and I've heard he's not immune to it either. So, who knows."

"Charming," I said downing my glass of champers. "Shall we?" I said nodding in the direction of Eric's place.

"At least we don't have to worry about drunk driving tonight. That's one plus!"

The party, or should I say Eric's very large house, was packed. I barely got through the front door before people were calling to me, stopping to talk and offering me a glass of something or other. I'd spoken to most of the cast either together or apart, as well as finding out how the other crew members were getting on, and if they had other jobs lined up for whatever step they took next. I'd gotten to know the crew guys really well over the course of the production and I liked everyone of them, mainly because they didn't seem impressed by me or who my father was. It was nice to just be treated as the newbie I was and earn their respect for real. And I had done that by the hugs and looks of admiration in their eyes as we talked over the ups and down of the shoot. I'd been there well over an hour before I saw Eric, chatting up a storm in his kitchen with some guy as they pointed at his flat screen. Some European football game was airing and they were locked in what looked like a intense debate.

Men.

It was on leaving the kitchen to step into the yard, that I ran into her, almost breaking her bones in the process.

"Oops. Sorry, I'm so clumsy," I said, standing back as she held tighter to her drink.

"God, be more careful. This is _McQueen."_

"Sorry."

She rolled her eyes as she flipped her hair to the side, standing with her hand on her hip.

"So you live next door, huh? I didn't know that until tonight."

"I do… I don't think he knew when he agreed to take this place though," I commented, feeling ever so awkward. I mean, what the hell was I meant to talk to her about?

"Hmm. It's nice. I mean, it is a little small, but I'm sure once things start picking up for him, he'll upgrade."

Upgrade? This place was huge, too huge really for one person.

"Maybe." I shrugged.

"You know, we're going to Sweden, soon."

If they were dicking around on each other, he was taking her home? That was … odd.

"Oh, really? That's nice."

"Yeah, he's from there you know. He speaks Swedish really well."

I knew that. I just nodded.

"I mean like, he speaks that AND he speaks Scandinavian. It's awesome."

I giggled into my drink, almost spilling it everywhere—accidentally, of course.

"And he said that we could totally visit Scandinavia while we're in Sweden, too. Well, I mean, he says _he's_ going, but that just means that I'm going too… he just doesn't know it yet. Besides it gives me time to put together my most Swedish looking outfits."

She wasn't serious.

"So like, I just wanted to say that, don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"Trying to get with him. I'm telling you right now that that's not going to happen, uhkay?"

"Who said I was trying to get with him? I don't want him. I don't go after men who are _already_ taken, sweetie. You must be looking in the mirror."

She gasped. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean? Are you saying I'm like, a home wrecker or something? Because it's _not _my fault if they're married and just can't help to themselves, you know? It's not my fault that my awesomeness has them all obsessed with me."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, I mean, oh God you're not one of _those _girls are you? I mean, really it's not right, being so jealous of me. I know that you're this chubby failed child star and all Sookie, but really, if you lost like forty pounds and got a nose job… I'm sure people would hire you again."

I assumed she was drunk. She had to have been. No one could be this… vapid, all the time, could they?

"If I lost forty pounds, I'd die. I'm a size four for goodness sakes."

"Ew..." she said. "I'm a double zero. It's so healthy. I don't eat _anything _that's bad for me and I just feel so energized all the time."

Yeah, it's not the vegetables that's doing that, that's for sure.

"Well, that's nice for you, I'm sure."

Call me crazy, but I'd rather look like the grown woman that I am and not a pre-teen. "I like how I am, thanks, but that's your preference."

"And Eric's too," she snided.

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't, since it was clear she believed what she was saying. But from the way he constantly stared at my boobs like they were magical, I hated to break it to her, he was a dude like any other, and was a closeted breast man.

Three hours and many, many drinks later, I found myself wandering the halls of Eric's house in serious need of a bathroom. I walked into one room to find Lafayette and John, my key grip, making out.

"Oops, don't mind me… Carry on!" I winked to Lafayette as they both stood up as if nothing was going on. Something was so going on. I walked into another room to find Eric sitting on the edge of a very large bed, his head in his hands.

I was closing the door again, when my nose got the better of me.

"You okay?"

"Oh, hey." He looked up. "I didn't get talkin' to you much tonight."

"It's been busy. You look like shit, by the way."

"Thanks," he said as I walked over to sit next to him, my bathroom needs momentarily forgotten.

"What's wrong?"

"I broke up with Sandy. I just hope it was the right thing to do, that's all."

"Sad. She was _so_ excited about tagging along to Sweden, and _then _visiting Scandinavia." I giggled causing him to crack a smile.

"It's not funny," he said, biting his lip.

"It's a little funny."

He laughed. "I did try and explain it to her…"

"I'll bet. But really, cheer up. She might get so distraught over you breaking the love off that she might actually eat something."

He gave me a warning look to which I conceded. "Sorry, nervous humor."

"Why are you nervous?"

"I don't know… After today I don't really know what to say to you?"

"Ah, the awkward after-_fake_-sex-talk." He sat back on his arms against the bed, looking up at me as I sat up straight.

I nudged his leg. "You're not funny either. It was a big deal for me."

"I know. I was as gentle in taking your onscreen virginity as I possibly could be. And for an onscreen virgin, you sure knew what you were doing."

"I'm glad it was with you. I mean, despite our … differences since this thing started, you made me feel… comfortable, when I really wasn't."

"You're welcome," he said with a now smug look on his face.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, both of us drinking our drinks and listening to the party slow down outside and downstairs.

I went to stand up, but he reached for my hand.

"Don't go," he said sitting upright.

"I have to."

"Why?"

"I… really have to pee," I said laughing.

He laughed too, pointing me to a door in his room, informing me that there was an en-suite back there. I tiptoed into the toilet since I was just about dying from holding it in for so long.

After I'd washed my hands I walked out to find him standing by the double doors that led to his balcony.

"I really should go now. It's getting late and I really didn't sleep last night… and …" I thought of going back to my place, alone and cold. Suddenly it didn't seem such a priority.

"You really need to cheer up dude," I said, slipping off my heels for comfort. "Really, that sour puss of yours is going to start scaring people soon."

"I just… how do you know?"

"Know what?"

"If you're doing the right thing, on the right path?"

Was he a deep thinker when he got drunk? That was new.

"I don't know, you just… feel it, I guess."

"Like you knew with that guy? The one you were engaged to? You knew that wasn't the right path?"

I hadn't really thought about it like that, but I guess it was.

"I think so. I mean I loved him, and I think a small part of me will always love him, you know? But it's not what I wanted, marriage, kids…. I just …"

"And career wise, how did you know to quit?"

He looked genuinely lost. I felt bad for him for the first time since we met again.

"I… don't know. It wasn't fun anymore. It's fun again now. And if it stops being fun again, well, I can always quit and try something else."

"It's that easy?"

"Well, I don't know about that either. I mean, I've only quit once and that was before I even got breasts, so what did I know!" I smiled. "I'm glad I did it though. Growing up here… it seems harder than it did in France. Being in the spotlight all the time like that? It's not healthy."

"You're annoyingly wise, Stackhouse," he said moving next to me. I just smiled.

"Nah, it's just because you're surrounded by idiots most of the time. It makes my job easier, that's all."

"So I need smarter friends?"

"And maybe better management. Just sayin'."

He nodded.

"I like you, Sookie," he said, scratching the back of his head again.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe I was crazy, but I smiled. "Well that's always nice to hear. I like you too, when you're not being a douche."

"I'm ignoring the last part." He rolled his eyes and took my wine glass from me.

His hand went to my hair, tucking it behind my ear, his fingers gently trailing the shape of my ear and down my neck and right back up again. Tiny sparks of electricity followed his soft touch.

"Stay with me tonight?" he whispered before leaning in, as if in a challenge to see if I'd lean back.

I did.

And I kissed him in lieu of a reply, and it seemed to be good enough for both of us.

**A/N: Hi guys! I'm hoping to alternate between this and TSL to give me a break from each of them and hopefully keep things updated regularly. Dying to know what you all thought!Oh and just as a 'disclaimer' - any and all characters that may or may not resemble someone/ certain people IRL … is a total coincidence.**

***Looks shifty* No, really, I mean it. *Wanders off.***


	12. Chapter 12

**SPOV:**

I took his hand after we kissed; of the two of us, I was awkwardly unsure of what came next, but he knew one thing for sure, he wasn't letting me go. Not that night anyway. We kissed our way to his bed, simply laying there next to each other, his hand in mine, his finger making a swirl pattern on my palm. We laid there for awhile just enjoying the sounds of the party winding to a close beneath us, and enjoying the calm. Of course, the calm didn't last very long. At least not where he and I were concerned.

I ended up in his lap, straddling him as he sat on his bed. His hands wandered up and down my back, his fingers trailing over my bare skin thanks to my backless dress. God, he could kiss in a way that was more intense than some of the sex I've had in the past. He just had this way of making me completely forget that the world existed outside of him, his lips, and how they made my body feel.

He stood us up, I was still in his lap, my legs wrapping around his waist, his lips never leaving mine as I heard the tiny click of a door being locked.

"Godric has boundary issues," he whispered as he carried us back to where we began. He unzipped the back of my dress—the zip started at my waist—all the way down, I simply stood up, causing my dress to land in a pool at my feet. A small grin spread across his lips as he took in my body, since I was standing there in heels and a tiny pair of panties. He had quite a few things to view. And from the look on his face, and the bulge in his jeans, he really rather liked said view.

His eyes finally met mine before I pushed him onto the bed. That's when he laughed, just a small laugh, but still it caught my attention.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin' I just… I thought you didn't 'do' actors?"

"You want me to stop? I can stop?" I said matching his raised brow with two of my own.

"No… Don't even think about it." He grabbed onto my sides sliding me further onto him, and by extension his giant bed, before kissing me hard. When I lifted up for air, I answered him.

"_Technically_, you're not an actor right now. Right now, you're just an unemployed bum. Those, I _can _do," I smiled before kissing him again. "And, I'm not your boss anymore so we're avoiding that cliché right off the bat."

He nodded. "Good to know."

"Yes, I think it is," I sassed, before going for the zipper of his jeans, taking my sweet time with it too.

He yanked off his t-shirt exposing those arms to me completely, never mind his now military issue six-pack and man pecs staring up at me.

"Boot camp was _so_ good to you," I commented and he laughed.

"It made me care, again. You made me care…" he said, raking his fingers through my hair and pulling me in for a kiss that lasted longer than either of us expected, resulting in him flipping us over so he was on top. Pushy bastard.

He made quick work shedding the rest of his clothes, leaving him in just his boxers.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he said as his lips found my bellybutton and he kissed it, and my tummy ever so gently. "When you quit. I never thought I'd see you again."

"Ditto," I replied, resting on my elbows to watch him at work.

"I wanted to though. I liked you, even then."

"Ew, you little perv. I was eleven!"

"Not that like!" he smiled. "Well, maybe a little bit like that. You were a cutie pie."

"_Cutie pie_? Oh, I'm cringing so hard right now."

He snapped the elastic of my underwear, causing me to flinch.

"As I was saying…" he said moving closer to the waistband of my panties, "I missed you, I thought a lot about you when things would get shitty for me. I envied you."

"Why?"

"You got out, and you had other options. I… well."

He didn't. I think I finally got Eric in that second. At least a little part of his personality; he was an actor now, not because he loved it, but because it was all he knew. His family never thought to give him the out that I had, to give him a break to be a kid, to be a stupid teen, to get drunk on peach schnapps and throw up—in private. No, he had to do it all in front of the cameras, whether he liked it or not.

We distracted each other with our bodies as we slipped under his fresh crisp sheets, driving each other nuts in the process. Neither one of us was willing to concede to allow the other to take control. It was an issue we had in our every day life where we each were concerned. I was hardly shocked that it would have translated into our sex life. Each of us unwilling to back down resulted in—what from the outside looking in could have seemed like—naked wrestling for a time, but finally I gave in. His unique brand of sexual insanity came from those amazing fingers of his, followed by his rather talented mouth. But, he wouldn't give in, he wouldn't let me come, and that's when I had to give in and let him has his way. My body couldn't take it anymore, so when he finally slipped inside of me, I was more than ready for him, even if it did take me a second to adjust. The intensity didn't stop however. In fact, if anything it only multiplied on itself as he and I fucked out all our frustrations, anger and confusion in the most amazingly, pleasurable way possible. He knew what he was doing, that's for sure. He played my body like a violin and the music that we made was simply divine.

It took some time before I could finally let myself go though, and it was as if he knew that this was new for me. I had, after all, just gotten out of a six-year relationship where neither of us had ever strayed nor were we particularly adventurous when it came to sex. Usually with Alcide and I, whatever position we began in, we ended in too. With Eric, it wasn't like that at all. It felt like a goddamn workout, to be honest. Somehow, don't ask me how, but the giant bed ended up not being big enough for both of us to play around in, and we ended up on the floor with a rather large bang—both literally and metaphorically. I came so hard I thought I was going to go blind I was seeing so many stars.

Three rounds with Eric Northman and I felt like I'd been hiking for days. I felt tired, sore, and amazing all over. The kind of pain that felt really fucking good all over.

There was no sound when we both hit the end of round three; no sound but the ringing in my ears and both of us attempting to catch our breath.

"Jesus Christ," he said, looping his arm around me, yanking his comforter and some pillows off the bed without getting up. We ended up wrapped up in his goose down, and wrapped up completely in each other. "That was so … so…"

"I know. Weird, huh?" I said as the feeling finally started to come back to my legs.

"Well, when I fantasized about it, it was never this good. I mean, it was good… but nothing beats the reality of you."

"Look at you, being all charming," I giggled letting him cuddle me closer. It wasn't long at all before his breathing evened out, and that was one of the last things I remember of that night, before the dawn came a calling and the panic set in.

**EPOV:**

Shooting the final scenes of the project were somewhat bittersweet for me. I was on the one hand so glad to be done, and the stress of it and the character would be long forgotten once I got a good night's sleep. But on the other hand, I wanted it to last forever. I'd come to love the cast—quirky and fucked up each and everyone of them in their own way. Lafayette was one in particular that I'd come to like. He was funny and self-deprecating in a way that allowed you to relax and totally be yourself around him. Though, I thought the same couldn't be said for him, since it felt as if he was holding back something of himself every time we'd talk. Not my business I suppose, but he was a good guy and that's all I knew. Then of course, there was my boss, and the whole reason I'd even been considered for this gig in the first place—Sookie, my Queen of Second Chances. With her talent and determination, she carried on, even in the face of serious adversity. And she did it. She turned a wonderful script into what looked like a kick ass movie that I only hoped the networks and the viewers would respond to. They were airing it—as we were told on wrap day—as a mini-series spanning five weeks, which made sense to me and to everyone else. Even if it was still considered a movie by most of us.

The final scene with Sookie was one I knew, despite her protests, that she was nervous about. I saw it in her eyes when she walked onto set. So, despite my wandering imagination and wanting nothing more than to ignore the crew, and fuck her right there for real… I knew I had to be professional. I mean, I was professional, but there was just something about her that made me want to throw that all away if it meant getting to touch her for real.

I took my pervert hat off, though; it wasn't right thinking of her like that. She was my co-star and my director. More to the point, in that moment we weren't sitting there as Sookie and Eric, two nervous actors (one of us with a crush). No, we were Ryan and Dena and that's what we had to focus on.

Sandy decided on that day to reappear in my life. After dinner that night at the Ivy, I'd made it clear to her that whatever the hell our relationship was, it wasn't working—for either of us. I wasn't the kind of person to just dismiss someone from my life for no reason, and despite her lacking judgment, she wasn't a completely bad person. I wanted us, at the very least, to stay some sort of friends. She didn't. She wanted more from me and I wasn't sure she got the message when I told her I was done. Not wanting to be rude led to her showing up at the party. Never one to turn down a good time of course, she came with her game face on. I watched her schmooze with the producers and the other actors on the project, laughing and joking as if she wasn't hanging on by a thread.

I busied myself being sociable, too. It felt right since, after all, people were inside my house having a good time. Most of the night I spent arguing over football scores and teams with a few of the guys. Other than that, one of the project's producers and his lovely and very influential executive producer wife talked my ear off about a few under the radar projects that they thought I'd be perfect for. Most of them sounded amazing—exactly what I was looking for, in fact. It was when I spotted Sandy pouting by the pool that she caught my gaze in hers, making her way over and subsequently nudging out the two producers with her hand gesturing and whining.

"You haven't talked to me all night," she snipped, a hand on one hip, a vodka in the other.

"I've been busy, and so have you from the looks of things." I nodded to her now empty glass.

"Well, I needed something to keep me occupied while I was left to my own devices all night. I need to talk to you… in private."

"Can't it wait?"

"No," she said, marching on ahead of me into the kitchen and using the back stairwell to go upstairs. I just rolled my eyes at her obtuseness before following. I didn't want to be rude to the guests but I had a feeling she wasn't going to be happy until she had her say.

I found her in the hallway next to my bedroom door. Before I could reach past it, she kissed me.

"What the hell?" I asked.

"I miss you, okay? I'm really sorry for all those things I said before when you said that you and I were done. I don't want us to be done, Eric. We're good together you and I."

I heard more people wandering up and down the stairs so I led her into my room and closed the door.

"Look, Sandy, I meant what I said. This isn't healthy, none of it. We can't keep on like this."

"Like what? I thought we were having fun?"

"We were, in the beginning. But that… ever since you told me Bill was involved in setting this whole thing up, any reality that I felt with you, it's gone."

"It wasn't a total set up. I mean, I did like you! And I'm glad he set us up, we've gotten so much out of this thing, Eric. I've gotten more offers in the last eight months than I have in three years. People don't look nicely on someone who bombs every movie they're in, but with us being how we are, it keeps things interesting!"

"Look, I want us to still be friends, Sandy, but right now, this just isn't working. I'm tired of the games."

"You don't get it do you? This shit is like the mafia. Once you're in the game it doesn't stop till the game has had enough of you."

"You have issues if you believe that. Everyone Sandy, everyone has the right to choose who they should be, and who they should be with. And right now you are not that person for me. And I know I'm sure as hell not that person for you."

"You'll regret this." She pouted, but I saw it as an empty threat.

"Maybe, but for right now, it's my decision. So please, respect that."

She stomped off seconds later, muttering to herself. I knew I'd have to see her again. She very rarely just accepted things outright. But it felt right. I needed something real, someone real. Someone who wasn't a set up by my management and her PR just to see where they could lead us, someone who had their own opinions on the world and didn't just agree with mine all the time in order to keep me placated and happy. That had worked once upon a time, but now I wanted more. I didn't want to settle. I just hoped that I made the right decision and that for all of Sandy's insanity that she wasn't totally right when she said that staying visible kept the public interested. I didn't want to have to base my life around where to get the next photo opportunity. I wanted to live a normal life—as normal as I could given the industry that I was apart of—but did a normal life want me? Could I even live a normal life now? That was the real question.

I'd downed the last of the beer in my bottle in an attempt to shake an all too familiar sinking feeling. I wasn't about to lose myself inside my head again. I internalized things too much. Even as a kid I kept so much inside that it would build to the point that the only way to let it out was in ways that ended up being totally self-destructive. Just as I was again about to fall down that dark rabbit hole and into myself, she appeared. Much like she appeared that day by the pool. Her blonde curls bouncing as she swung the door open. Her eyes bright and still so full of genuine life. My own eyes now only shone a weary glimmer, whereas hers still had their shine.

I wanted her. I'd wanted her from the day I'd laid eyes on her again after all that time. I really had thought about her over the years. When I was contracted to do those movies I had almost zero say in as a kid, shuffling from place to place, not really making any solid friends, just sort of living that old nomadic life, I often though how she had been right to leave when she did—to live a normal life that had once looked so boring to me.

I knew that when she motioned to leave, leaving was the last thing I wanted her to do. Even though I knew she was only going a few hundred feet next door, it was still too far away. I didn't care if we had sex—as much as I might have wanted it—it wasn't what I really needed. I just need her, her and her refreshingly honest company, and if the sex happened it was a giant bonus as far as I was concerned.

Kissing her again, as Sookie and just as Sookie felt wonderful. The kind of wonderful that made your stomach do little flips, I liked that feeling. It certainly beat the sinking feeling of dread that I usually felt recently.

While I might have been fully content in just laying with her, talking with her, or generally enjoying the silence with her, that wasn't to be. She had a magnificent body—she clearly worked out, but in a way that gave her curves and a supple ass—and these amazing breasts that I just couldn't get enough of. She was as dominating in the bedroom as she was on a set, and I kind of liked it, but I loved the feeling of her growing frustrations even more as we each wrestled for control. I surrounded her, and the intensity of our time together was simply unmatched in terms of anything else I'd ever felt, with anyone. Listening to her softly chant my name as I got us lost in each other had this staggering result in both of us seemingly unable to get enough of each other—that night at least.

I felt her nails scrape down my back again, the slight pain followed my intense pleasure. Is that how all sex should feel? I felt as if it should. By the time we were both spent, I knew the party had somehow found it's own end. I didn't care; how could I when I was wrapped up in pure endorphin inducing after glow snuggles with someone I hoped wouldn't just be a one time thing.

I had a feeling somehow that even though I woke up the next morning, wrapped like a butterfly in a cocoon with my blankets on the floor—very much alone—that it wouldn't be the last I saw of Sookie Stackhouse.

Definitely not.

**A/N: *kicks rocks* Sooo, what do we think?**


	13. Chapter 13

If you would like to read the rest of this story in it's entirety please visit – Myfictionalmusings . wordpress . com or if that doesn't work the link is in my profile and just copy / paste it from there. Thank you.


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